New City #7


I was that guest who stayed longer 
and talked a little different,
but I was not unbecoming to the room. 
A little like a floor lamp 
that was given the keys after a while.

I wasn't tedious company 
and at the table, the seats beside me 
were always filled.

But every once in a while somebody felt 
the need to point out my tongue, my ground.
Then they unexpectedly would call me foreign 
and send me home
while I was just getting used to the air
and thought that I maybe conquered a heart. 
But nothing could be further from the truth. 

Sometimes a cold stare would put me back in my seat.
I would keep quiet looking at the seagulls outside 
believing their squawks were a bad sign.
How was it that I was inside while I was left outside?