Clouds

I was born in London but that ain’t make me from there.

I don’t even know what makes you from somewhere. Not anymore anyway if ever I did.

Right now I look up at the storm sneaking in and if that’s not home enough for me than nothing will be.

Fish skin clouds choking on a bone and by the time they clear eighth avenue there’s more where they was. Same and different all at once.

I’m them clouds.

Same and different all at once.