Tender I sit at the side of the road
this lane that house
the many people that live in tents or sleeping bags in subway stations
the youthfulness
the way I cannot close this hatch
the way I cry when I see someone else cry

the way I say no and hold my ground even when they tell me
I must not be honest “speak like a politician” the ways in which they find me wild are the ways in which I refuse to refuse my own heart and soul

I sit tender at the side of the road