LandminesI've lived a life ofdisarming landmines hiddenamong eggshells,and that is what I see in you.To dance around youto smile and say hellobut to never...You look welcoming,your smiles like sunlightsifting through the canopy leaves, butwe all know the myriad people who've ran into arms not unlike yoursand lost every single limb, so I...I was not assigned to you.Your soil is not one I've been commanded to search.Your secret not one I've been told to expose.Your threat not one I've been sent to dismantle.You smile, andI smile, toowhile on each other's outskirtswe remain.
ThatI feel like I've told this story many times.And I have to the point it makes me feel like a self-absorbed record. Broken.I don't know why I feel the need to keep telling it.And start panicking and wishing I could take everything back at the same time.Perhaps it's just because I haven't processed it yet.Haven't recited it yet. Not perfectly.If I want to tell it, it has to be perfect.And no matter how often I say it, it just doesn't feel right.Berkeley was where I lived on my own for the first time.Experienced adventure, truly, for the first time.My best anectdotes came from that placeand all its streets that smell like we