Stranger Travels

"So Abigail, where are you from?"

I am from the lesser-known
The habited colonies of the nooks and crannies
From the mermaid lagoon on the Rappahanock River
The coral crags on the East China Sea
And cluttered passports
filled to the brim with layovers
the unplanned 12 hours in Shanghai
and airport orange chicken

Home is not a main street
and the same 3 best friends

My roads are thumbtack trails
across paper maps
my neighborhoods are various
Terminal A's
or E's
or C's
and places that say more
than people ever could

I have no space
or time
for wall murals
or gardens
or scrapbooks in the traditional sense

To see the adventures
I merely trace the scar on my thumb
twist my sun-bleached hair between my fingers
pick the scraped skin from the soles of my feet
the places where my skin has ripped, torn
and sewn itself together again

I run my fingertips over the stitches
on my heart
opened too many times
from the ripping-out of
forgotten friends

But higher education doesn't believe in Band-Aids,
do they?
Just study groups
rectangular tables
and the occasional kind soul
over a cup of chai