warmer here than Atlanta,

no one is surprised.

I forgot how much I missed this place

where I was not born

but where I was molded.

Houston, yes,

the things that I have missed were so unexpected.

man selling colored ices on the corner, no habla ingles.

flat as peta bread, no hills or curves.

crowded hallways of people who do not look like me

or speak like me

or feel like me

or eat like me,

but are living like me.

sprawling cracked sidewalks, make you fall on your face when you try rollerskating.

small anecdotes litter this place that I call home in this heat.

This is where I grew up.


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