don’t be an ingrate

this is a slow return 
home 
the smack of heat on skin jarred with forced adjustment
to an old normal almost lost in the drip
of time past history
where lines are recommended guides only when convenient
and freedom means the right to industry
the work
the real consumption of culture
from plate to stomach full with taste
grown from the ground up
these are roots
wafting from open drains and open skies
gray with weather demanding duty
and road-side offerings of life 
and death next
to foreign signs and stray dogs
and movement that doesn’t stop
when someone’s looking
always this
is remembering