I don’t belong here.
I’m trespassing in someone else’s neighborhood
as I turn off the main road
and onto the quiet, tree-lined streets w
here people live.
This is where I’ll take my walk today
and no one will know the difference.
The woman working in her garden,
the man with the four dogs
(two large and two small)
the couple on their power walk,
all smile and wave
a friendly good morning
as though I am a part of the fabric
of their world,
as though it would be perfectly natural
if I turned up the next driveway,
walked up to the pale blue house with the red door,
put my key in the lock
and stepped inside.
But this is not my home.
I’ve never walked this path before.