I love the crinkle,
The edges of humanity,
The way people
Refuse to be pressed smooth.

Some are loud,
Some blaze bright,
Their lives spilling past margins,
Smearing ink in cursive loops.

They will not lie flat,
Not be tamed,
Not bound spine-to-spine
In books of uniform lives.

I love the crinkle,
The jagged edges,
The pagelessness of humanity.