DAY 41: Italy vs. USA, world cup
my choice who to root for, my choice
the exile the ex-pat the chooser
I came here, I stayed
I found a home in another's
heart/arms/town with two cats in the
yard (life used to be so hard)
after a century it's still not home
it's okay, but I don't get them
they wouldn't get me either
if they ever tried
if they ever tried
I don't fit in, not one with my
surroundings, not immersed in a
cosmic meditative state like back
in the golden state.
is everybody blocked in high
school growing grey but
hair's still combed that same way?
who cares, my brothers are
there, my parents' graves, my
American house in an American
town -- we're an American band,
singing -- "Don't I Wish I Was There?"
or is here okay, here/there, hunkered
down with my life-partner, cat,
work, dream house, and public
healthcare. I can't imagine
risking my life to return to that
advanced sophisticated functioning
America because it is not -- Trump
broke it. Crack! Too easy. like a breadstick.
until it's fixed, I'm staying here, holing up
where they don't mess around -- Stay home
means it. Nobody's out. Hashtag. No, I don't
wish I were back in California, my
California -- no don't
wish I were back in California, my
California -- no don't
no, or yes, a little bit, closer
it's just too long a swim
my shoulders are tired
and nobody here can call
out my name.
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