as he walks home,
consulting them.
The street would often butt in
in a beep beep or a swoosh.
And sometimes the wind
couldn’t help but mess his hair up.
It would stop him from wrinkling
his forehead too much-
as if to say
“don’t take it too seriously”.
He counts his fingers
and shakes his head
after tapping all five of a hand.
after tapping all five of a hand.
Later,
he would count his fingers again.
But before he will get to number five,
he will hold on to his pillow
as if the bed was sinking beneath him.
“But I love them all.”
And he does.
In the morning, soon after he wakes up,
he would use the same five fingers
to stroke himself
as he remembers faint scenes
as he remembers faint scenes
