One Dollar Cuban? (1/2019)

Second story.
First story from this second story balcony.
I don’t speak this language.
Middle seat, balanced anguish,
before I landed.

Right by the beach.
Wrong turns down memory lane on this balcony.
I can’t understand you.
Crazy how these things follow me
even when I’m grounded.

I feel finally I’ve landed inside myself.
Not easy to live not inside yourself.
Strung a week. It’s a month, day, minute, second chance.
Always chances. We just keep dancing.
Wade through unknown to comfort.
Behind those clouds is bright.
Be yourself and come home,
I’ll tuck you in, goodnight.

I’ll set fire to this ocean.
I’ll sail all these seas.
I’ll break and bend to find myself
napping inside of me.