i stood in front of this rothko and i was filled
to the brim with missing even though it was right in front of me.
there's something about me: i miss things
and i miss them hard before they're gone.
as i rode the bus to work today i missed the city mornings,
that soft warm light filtering between gray stone and the way
feels full of possibility.
i miss the tiny brick jagged sidewalks cerulean front doors black shutters
and i really miss cookie butter
miss how i look different,
how everyone looks different, so much that we're all the same
and how the standard of beauty here is so inclusive
that i don't feel like i have to measure up,
taller, blonder, thinner.
here: me, short, curvy, mismatched eyebrows, more me,
i don't even own running shoes, more me.
the cookie butter helps.
i miss west end cinema and independent films
tuesday night open-mic poetry at busboy's and
how he looks at me when we're dancing.
i miss saturday brunches and having a to-do list
full of experiences yet to be had
i miss being at the center of the world,
meeting harry reid nancy pelosi jeff flake
i miss swimming in this alphabet soup
i miss being in a dim room late at night and looking around
at people that i love and more people
that i'm starting to love
and feeling like i belong.
i miss this familiarity.