My mother made a slick decision when she was 9 months pregnant.

Denying the wishes of her gentle husband;

Spitting out words from her own tongue, 

Never borrowing those from her predecessors. 

I would not be French,

She did not come from France,

My father’s family, too, a stranger to French land.

Yet, I carry with me a tinge of a French identity 

Buried in 5 letters, merely...

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Metalic stickiness of a coin doused in ice cream: 

Melting, melted, muddied. 

Dripping over onto an old wooden bench: 

Spilling, spilled, splattered. 

A patchwork of dark green flaking paint,  

Light pink strawberry cream, 

Dark denim of a pair of jeans. 

The click of a clock flush against the palm of your hands,

cocooned by only your restraint. 

Wait a minute ...

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I remember seeing a woman once 

A few years ago. 

She was riding the 8 am bus in Rome 

From the stealthy apartment complexes 

To the bustling city center.

Her skin folded over itself,

Caressing the bones underneath, 

Carefully protecting its careful protector.

I only saw her for a moment,

But when I did, I locked eyes with her.

The glare of the sun against the 

Ple...

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Every time I wash my hands I sprinkle the extra water back in the sink.

Flicking each finger with undeniable familiarity.

My hands will always belong to my kindergarten classroom. 

Lessons fit for a 6-year-old will

always take hold.

Sand bounces in the cupholders, and coins clink in the door pocket, 

Of my hand-me-down car when the volume hits 22. 

My eardrums will always...

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