Without Love, Your Poetry Is Irrelevant
Its been years since I’d taken the train to Sacramento. I don’t exactly remember the last trip I made in the name of my biological family that still lives there. I didn’t belong there. My birth-mother was right in giving me up and never looking back. For this trip, I bought my first cane. My knee had been loud and unpredictable for two weeks. Deeply pained and random. I needed help. I bought the cane at W—g—-ns and getting off the train in Sac, when they offered a shuttle ca