Coco

Two years ago, my home was Beijing

Even though I moved away ten years ago.

Two years ago, I longed for inclusion

for that tingle that made my skin

burn bright with belonging.

You ask me where is my home.

My friend's home is beautiful. 

It's got green walls with flowers all over. The floor is soft and plush. It's warm but only in summer, and it's too cold in winter. But my friend likes it just fine.

There’s this song,

Slipping Through My Fingers.

By ABBA. From Mamma Mia!

That's how I see it.

Our rights.

“I try to capture every minute.”

They say the world was once wider, 
measured in scraped knees and firefly nights, 
in the space between streetlights, 
where time was counted in the hush before dinner.