I live in an unremarkable town house,
in a standard neighborhood
that you most likely haven’t heard of.
It’s an adequate place,
good school systems, little crime.
But that’s all it will ever be to me— adequate
There’s no adventure, no secrecy.
I have friends, a lot, but I don’t fit in.

But—
when I go to Manhattan,
for a spur of the moment weekend trip.
I feel like these people are me.
I belong with the beeps of the taxis,
and the screaming lights of the billboards.
The people there don’t care
what society thinks of them.
They are themselves, nothing else.
I may live in a suburb—
but Manhattan is my home.