Westmorland Drive, Austin, TX

4 a.m. and I’m sitting in the backyard
smoking cigarettes, drinking cold coffee,
just thinking about the distance and time.
It’s warm. The sky is purple-gray. I hear
the ringing of the bells. The pulse is stable, but
mind is full of pictures, tar, empathy and pain.
Austin to Krakow, ashes to ashes. Thinking
about differences, races, languages, food,
attitude, houses with porches and backyards.
Trying to understand similarities, culture,
and construction of a heart. People here are scared
too. They fight, bleed, cry and smile at the same time
as you do. What’s mixed and missed can be fixed.
Searching for acceptance, connections,
being close, not on a distance. Being on time.
On the same side. Without sharing those stories
and hearing from you, I couldn’t be that happy.
I couldn’t be that hurt.

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