I don’t care to wash the windowpanes.
The glass can remain smudged
And I wouldn’t mind.
I don’t care to see through
To the other side.
There’s no need to see what’s out there
While I’m decompressing within.
Some days,
Looking out is fine.
But I take issue when I check
And oddly find
Fingerprints not on the inside
But on the outside of the glass.
At least the curtains are drawn.