I wish I had a job,

just for the sheer joy of motoring back

through twilight, as the streets lighten

windows down? volume up?

maybe going home to pieces of me

little toes, shoes as long as my palm

I will love you as my own, for

you are mine and I will be yours.

(you will make me home)

slow change

as we poured through the foggy streets

glimpsing glimmering tiny fairy lights

house windows flashing, catching the headlights dim

I realised how good it would be for me to get to know my mother –

this land, which has given me

my face

my skin color

my accent

this land, which I know so little about surviving in

I can look her in the face and see how ugly she is, but

there must be a way to live here simply

without being sucked into the shallow vortex of self-gratification and lies

hiding behind the mask of freshly-cut lawn and picket fence

I know there is brokenness here, too

I want to seek it out and live there

healing, fighting,

catching bullets.

I can find the beauty here in all this run-down concrete just the way I have done before,

learning this culture, wearing the robe of the first world for the first time

I saw what could become my life

and it wasn’t terrifying.