It’s every day of the week
The way birds sing in
trees
to the
beat of the leaves
while we’re talking
It’s the scream of my knees
& every
Thing you say to me
has been drumming in a beat made of humming

give me your T-shirt or something

I’m online in the morning

I’m in love on the knuckle of loving.
You really do something
You’re probably something

And I’m the thumb on a hand full of wanting