i dont
care about wine or succulent dinners that take two hours to
prepare and are diamonds on the tongue
i dont care about cigarettes in the morning
blinking swollen eyelids and hair like long grass combed
by seabreath
i dont care about fabric on the walls, the colors that
warm your irises when the aging sun hits them
just right
i dont care about apartments with high ceilings and balconies
overlooking streets
that teem with noise from the underground
teem with people enjoying this
centuries version of peace

i dont care about thirty two hour weeks
and paychecks that coat life
in a thick layer of oil


i care about
cereal in coffee mugs,
smiles rested on top
and eyes whispering

i care about voices strung together
like morning dew, trembling
along a spider’s thread

i care about watching
one another
make art, in silence,

fingers spiraling down
the brittle neck of a grandfather
guitar
rainbow splatter

words with hands.