Nomad

I am from unpacked boxes Kroger branded drunkenness Chinese takeout the smell of dry wall. I am the sinner with ink-stained hands Singing loudly in the chipping church pews a poet’s words billowing up in smoke. I am from all different types of roads nomadic, unsettling the blur of trees flying across the window look the same in every state. I am from the other town, paint peeling on an unfamiliar wall an unfamiliar face.