Smears On Glass

he looks out from inside,

but the lens is smeared

from his dirty hands,

the rising sun looks dingy,

like nature forgot

to color within the lines.

something about the view

reminds him that he

is also glass, see-through

and stained with oily touch.

he will clean it all today,

before he misses the morning

and paints new lines

with breath and fog,

because he liked the way

a grungy dawn made him feel.