I come from dust
on windowsills
and sandwiches wrapped in wax paper,
“Good mornings” from strangers.
Whitewater waterfalls
with no fanfare
just there outside the window.
I come from roads blown through bedrock.
Crumbling factories, smokeless stacks, wide sidewalks.
And the Nervous Dog Coffee Shop.
Reinventing myself
through poetry and caffeine.
