I need your singalong
hum with the air

I need a pair of eyes
like origami
for unfolding and mending.

I take the leeside
at my leave
and the wayside home.

I go crosseyed
when I hunch
down to tie my shoes.

I need your turntable
knuckle shift
music at the table.

I need your open
palms catching
the day’s shavings.

I need the way you lean
over my everything
and the shadow you cast.