Coffee House Poems

Just Visiting

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When I was a kid I told people I was from Octrunia.

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Sometimes I believed it.

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No one I knew looked like me.

No one I knew talked like me.

No one I knew thought like me.

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It made sense that I must be from somewhere “else”.

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When I grew up, I still felt the same only more so.

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No one still looked like me.

I got the talking thing down OK.

No one still thought like me.

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I used to try and find a way to get back where I might be from.

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I moved around a lot. I travelled a bit.

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I once found a place where people looked like me.

But they no longer talked like me.

Probably didn't think like me.

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Not long ago, I saw a homeless woman. She said she was

traveling.

She sat on the same spot on the sidewalk for over a year.

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S-he didn't look like me.

She didn't talk like me.

I imagine she thought like me.

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We were just visiting here for awhile until we got back home.