Our formal attire on the floor in a pile in the morning I will fold them while you get ready for work I hear you singing in the shower it’s a song I showed you years ago it’s nice to know you listen to it after all this time I put your clothes on the dresser with your sixty day chip and your broken gold chain your unpaid parking ticket and the photo that you framed from when you were a kid to remember where you came from as if you could forget and your hand me down pickup hula girl on the dash ding on the bumper more than one crash it’s always an accident it could always be worse scars healing over the memory hurts and I trace them with my fingers touch them with my mouth the lines around your eyes the furrow in your brow your face is a language I’m fluent by now you can tell me the whole story without saying it out loud. I notice everything about you I can’t help it it’s not a choice it’s been this way since we met
