48

The tie hangs off the computer loosely
as a reminder of work to get done,
but silk and plastic aren't things that choose me
on a daily basis, from sun to sun:
I feel chosen by love, by words, language,
sound, hope, the tastes and textures of living,
and light and leisure, and cheer and anguish,
buying, selling, by taking and giving:
The red tie loops down three times on the gray,
till the skinny red bottom scrapes the wood
though the finish saves it from harm today…
(I never notice these things like I should)
It's like a rose against a dull skyline;
my vision's so keen, all objects can shine.

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