Porthole

As conflicted as Kosovo

Ulpiana beckons

I'm as conflicted as Kosovo,
constricted by history and heritage
to consume myself, leaving nothing
but crumbs among ruins.

Under Serbian cornfields
shards of Rome rest to be uncovered
as if peace could be discovered
between the bombs and besa of Albanians.

I feel passion tearing me to pieces.
I have always been content with crumbs. (I've always survived/lived off of crumbs)

I have a flag of Kosovo on my kitchen counter. I look at it and wish I were there. There are many places, so many places to visit that I'll never visit; yet, I have been blessed.

40 degrees at 10:01 in the morning. A moment of symmetry. Should've gotten up earlier but here I sit with my first coffee. Already dunked my cookie. I didn't share (which I realize implies that I have someone to share with; I don't).

Waching "1000 Stars". I'm in a weepy mood. Thai series do that. I'm not quite sure why. I wonder what I'll feel when I visit Thailand.

59 at 3:37. I should be happy. I'm "vertical" but without energy.

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