some daily language

Old couch
in the living room

(dingy as t-shirt rags,

friend of rain and wind through the curtains,

worthless as a father
telling old jokes,
and just as needy-less,

where one wakes up
from the afternoons of naps
clouding up the sky
where love could have been written),

forgive me for not
seeing. You and all
the others, the dingy ones,
have sat with me
in window panes of sunshine
while I was just learning to care,
and only about the sunshine.