my eyes don’t see 

the world the same they are dirty brown I see that I know that my hair, too brown, but the eyes in certain shades

see other colors the wrong colors some might say then the scars a thin white line on the left palm running midway 

from ring finger to the center on the wrist, broken twice another scar, red and thick on the knee joint, not a slice from barbed wire and football, but a box knife in a grocery store broken this and that tailbone

ribs funny bone old wounds and flaws on the surface all stories inside something else a mystery, even to me