“Where you from?”
I say Toronto, but not really
The TTC didn’t reach as far as we were outside the city
I’m kinda from LA now
But it still feels wrong to say it
Eleven years, six places later doesn’t mean that I can claim it
I’ve got more memories on Melrose than anywhere else
Tuesdays, poets saying things like
“Home is wherever you’re yourself”
My mom’s parents were Hungarian
But all I know about that country
Is they’re super anti-immigrant and super fire salami
My dad’s side’s been Canadian
A hundred years or something
I won’t touch a 23andMe ’cause I’m scared I might be Russian
I still keep kinda kosher
The ancestors inside of me
Got the allergies, the asthma, and the generalized anxiety
My mom spoke seven languages
And only taught me one
I’m learning Spanish as an adult just to feel like I’m her son
I wanna keep her curiosity
Her adventures, and her eyes
Leave her vodka sodas and her readiness to die
I don’t know why I feel the most myself
In places I’ve never been
With people I don’t know
Maybe it’s ’cause being out of place is so familiar
Not where I’m supposed to be, but with nowhere else to go
Listening quietly and hearing a voice say
Hey, make yourself at home
Make yourself at home
Make yourself at home
Mm, hey, make yourself at home
Make yourself at home
Make yourself at home
Mm, hey, make yourself at home
Make yourself at home
Make yourself at home
Mm, hey, make yourself at home
Make yourself at home
Make yourself at home
نظرات