wait, step, wait.

uploaded, digitized, remixed

the system, let’s go on to what we can’t imagine!

these callouses born of disuse, this Disease of inexperience

our children’s tongues are tables of mocking fruit, served up

as the established norm, the given.

forget it, babe, we’ll spin

on a snagging beat and you’ll toss me over your shoulderblades

this three-time catch, how I could know the steps you invented

every

single

time

I caught your hand on the drop.

my, my, my

replay it over, let’s hear ourselves

think, in sync,

I’ll keep pretending I can rap,

you keep pretending you can dance, and that

you’ll write me back.

 

springing

this sun

has to be a joke, it is

so drizzly wet outside and we are dashing

from buildings, breathing deeply

but trying not to ruin our hair

(let me say that the deepest joy

is from looking down and remembering that I am rooted in

boots I’ve had since I was eleven.)

moving forwards

A new family has moved to the town in which my family first lived when we moved to Uganda, the beautiful town of Mbale.

The mother of this family has some lovely photographs that make me completely nostalgic every time I look at them.

They are coming to grips with the enormity of the culture gap:

different clothing

crazy workshops, in which you must sit for hours waiting for the car to be fixed

learning to exist in a place where being white is being a racial minority

learning to appreciate the ragged beauty that is everywhere

traveling, seeing all the fantastically beautiful natural landscapes

adjusting the schedule when the power goes out

experiencing the unpredictable road conditions

and learning to understand the often times crazy culture of the beautiful people.

(they’re even taking care of the old cat)

(all photo credits go to D. Tuininga)