Belonging

The greatest longing, always,
has been to belong, to find
a place to belong, or even
to belong in whatever place
I was in.  Whatever place

I found myself in, I decided
I would belong there. I tried.
I tried to belong — not fit in —
I could always fit in — I wanted

that lived-in look, that perfect
archetype look. Sometimes I’d get
close, but then I’d wake up at dawn
or before and see the dim street
and say, this is not a place for me,

I do not belong. I’m too — elsewhere
for this. Too off-world origin story,
too mystery parentage
for this settlement. Whatever,
I’d then say, that’s all too much
romance for a potato-man like me,
and I’d move on. 

Moving on is where I belong.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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