You remind me of where I was born,
of sun and heat and love and the rainy season that makes roads into rivers and scrubs the air clean.
I’ve learned your flaws by now.
Your unrelenting need to be liked, to be loved, the soft, fleshy underbelly of bright bravado.
Your willingness to bend, to be agreeable, to stand with those who are right but not Right.
I can see the unsightly, messy bits, where the veneer is peeling,
and you remind me of home.