My home is comfortable.
To me.
Often it is so comfortable to me
that I stay inside it
afraid of how uncomfortable the
outside might be

I’m outside of it now
The greatest risk I can perceive is my
walking into a lamp-post as I write

I’ve walked seven blocks or so
the air is brisk; I have mittens
the air is plain nice when it gets down to it

I haven’t been bothered by anybody
I think that’s what I’m afraid of most.
Okay, a hispanic man in a van did give me a kissy face
what was up with that?
I stared back at him blankly
It happened another time long ago and
I flipped the guy off
I’m in a different mood now

I’m on my own out here
Just like I like
Society, eh, not so bad after all
the people are minding their own business today
(this coming from someone who knocked on the new neighbors
door at 8 a.m. to introduce myself)

Do crows make a “knocking” sound?
I’m sitting here on a mossy stump
(in the middle of the city!)
the stump is miraculously dry
I realize I am to my own devices,
just like at home
Maybe even more so!
There is the knocking sound the bird is making
There is a ray from the sun
There is lonnnnnnnng grasssssss all around me
Oh how I missed the grass when I lived in Arizona

There is solitude here
…if I ignore the sound of the man coughing and
hacking inside the pickup at the stop light.
There is bliss.

Two minutes later
and a man is walking by
He points at me and says:
You’re a brave lady!
Oh yeah, why’s that?
Bum’s piss on that stump all the time!
Oh yeah, well I dont care,
I told him,
It’s just my ass.