but intentionally touching at exactly the right places
so they become almost beautiful all by themselves
just like the way that man will never love you.
In your rear view mirror,
you see a stranger you have to love
because he is sweating in his red bandana,
so tired from work,
you realize he really isn’t a stranger at all.
He catches you staring at his tired eye and now
he’s another person who just doesn’t like you.
You can’t help it if he reminds you
how we scatter ourselves out into the dark
of our lives begging
to come back an ocean.
But there’s no ocean here. Just a man standing
in his own kitchen window by the sink
as you drive down the road.
Suddenly your heart
is the dirtiest dish—you can’t forget
the sound it makes
clanging against the other dishes.