I like people who are shattered and all their coins

chime out from their ruptured porcelain. No one

is pure: I don't trust a polished finish, a man

whose locks are locked down by gel. I like

people who wear their opinions on t-shirts,

kids with too many buttons and patches,

trying to spell out who and what they are.

I like punks who don't give a fuck about saying fuck,

anywhere, anytime; people who sketch and sew

and write and hope like water from a lake's spillover.

I like the ones who've been kicked aside, out

of every paradigm, who've stood in frank light

to examine the thing they've exited: no fence, no frame,

nothing at all keeping everyone corralled.