French Town

Poem

Why do I have panicked dreams of Lyon?
Is my hernia, rupturing, a manifestation?
My sins, envelop around my intestines
My prayers, beyond reach

In a little French town
Where I wait for a bus
To take me to a place of waiting

I can go anywhere
And wait
I can go anywhere
And sit
I can go anywhere
And feel

Where I belong is akin to a seagull in a city
Not really belonging
But making due
An invasive species in a little French town