The Nervous Dog

 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.