I think that 
one of the 
heaviest burdens to 
bear for myself 
is the acceptance 
that I don’t 
fit in anywhere 
I have been 
lugging around that
reality since I 
was a child 
and oh I 
am so tired 
of moving it
from one place 
to another from 
one group to 
another that now
at long last 
I have finally 
understood its purpose 
it’s not a 
reality upon which 
to drag but 
one upon which 
to sit and 
wonder and think 
and to write 
and be loved 

I know now what 
a piece of bread 
feels like once dropped 
into a toaster from 
a picture of a 
street in Portugal there’s 
barely enough room in
between buildings for a 
person to walk that’s 
the beauty of foreign 
cities their slender yet
sprawling footprints as though 
a giant with narrow 
feet walked around barefoot 
leaving behind impressions 
in the wet sand 
ahhh cities abroad so 
different than in America 

The rain came 
my windows weep
like my mother 
did when dad
died from top
to bottom one 
drop meets another 
then meets another 
and soon a
river forms flowing 
downstream finally catching 
on sill or
for her sweater
and now all 
I see is
my mother in 
my window and 
all I remember 
is what a
broken heart looks 
like it rains 

The rain here
like most everything 
comes from north
and my window 
faces that way
some face west
too but north 
is from where 
all things come 
including the rain 
which now tap
dances on glass 
little pitter patters
tiny interruptions asking 
me for attention 
maybe to talk 
maybe to introduce 
nature to me 
I always turn 
around see nothing 
nature it appears 
disappears teasing like 
a child playing 
hide and seek 

I choose quiet 
today peace calm
and serenity over 
people some music 
mostly twinkling piano
dancing and twirling 
about my head
and of course 
coffee hot with 
cream it too
tastes of quiet
and oh lights 
inside and out 
quiet little things 
be near or
far tiny dots 
or warm wash
I choose quiet 
today before sunrise 
starts its chaos