roundabout, unsteady weight
of my feet upon the sidewalk, sinking
deep into the cracks of drug dealers
and ambling adolescents
and old mothers
and young fathers, and whatever else
this city has to offer, its population
unknown to me, bewildering
since where i come from, everybody
has a name
and i know it
so this is weird
the imbalance between known
and unknown, the strange feeling
of a shift in the atmosphere that follows me
the loss of control that i feel
when i step down from the bus and make my way
through the crowd, feeling drunk
and off-kilter, feeling like
a drifting newspaper, out of date
trying to find some sense of community
but instead i find only small relationships
each separate from the other
each with a different dynamic, a different colour
a different reason for staying together
a different reason for falling apart
(and that happens
so much faster here)
and yet somehow i find that
i like it this way
having so many little lives, towns
to choose from
that there is always somebody, somewhere
willing to brighten my day
and so i think i’ll be okay, i’ll transition
into a city girl, all hardened and shiny
and maybe even stylish
with only the roots of my home peeking out
from beneath my feet, saying
don’t forget
and i won’t
i promise
city slicker pinky swear