Border issues
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I've hopscotched cross-country
riding Greyhound buses
waiting in dirty terminals
- those havens for drifters...
And I recall my arrival here,
( it was ten years ago, or so...)
and your sister, Carol
For many
this is a time of festivity,
of good tidings,
gifts,
food and family...
While the words,
" merry" and " happy"
float in the air
like shimmering snowflakes.
Vagabond,
humming- bird hearted
fluttering
to and fro
sipping the sweetness
( often the bitterness)
of this thing called
life.
Migratory
Migrant
like a Monarch
wafting with
I am not the memory
of a hard mother's voice
staccatod like gunfire
of, " Why don't you?"
" Why can't you?"
I am the desire
to flow
clear
like a silver river
floating free
