Tessa Renken
My hometown feels
As if it is something
Both mine and
Never meant for me.
I do not know
Most of the residentsThe grocery story
Is full of faces
I should recognize.
I do not recognize the people
I recognize the sunrise and sunsets
The old buildings
(who they house unclear)
I recognize a place
My peers grew up
And wonder how they feel about it
I am outside the borders,
I hold nostalgia for
An experience
I barely had.
I long more
To climb the tree
In my grandmas yard again
Than introduce myself
To my neighbors.