Love Letter to My City

to the city I ran away to

whose coordinates have a permanent place on my arm & heart

to the doorman of someone else’s building

who knows me by name and smiles and waves when I pass by

to the smile of a stranger

when I’ve had a bad day

to the Irish Pub

where I had my first drink on my 21st birthday

to the Thai restaurant around the corner

whose staff are slightly scandalized when I don’t order my regular meal

to the cute barista who draws a heart on my coffee cup

to the route 7 bus driver

who says be safe when I step off

to Rittenhouse Square

the countless hours spent reading, people watching, composing poems in my head

to the pink petals swirling in the late spring breeze

to the bike messenger at the park I exchange a few words with

who leaves, only to return with gelato for us both

to the first girl I ever kissed

to the last girl I kissed

under an umbrella in the rain

to the neighbor I slip a handwritten note to

who lets me take cuttings from their window box, since I asked so nicely

to the tiny apartment

the first place I’ve truly felt home

to the street art that boldly declares

you belong here