The Places We Are Poem by Adam Watson

The guess work of gifted flowers
and quiet gestures will win out,
but that's OK. Besides...
the latest sense of normal feels jarringly
familiar as any ex-part can tell you
- the waking reminder after the dream
and sometimes confusing scent driving at heart

Fatigue besieged by afternoon coffee
parlays to the next time zone over
where the latest idiom goes unchecked.

You should ask a local, but I don't really live here
and the promise that brought me
looks nothing now like the pictures,
what, with all these stale eateries
dotted among the bric-a-brac... But, do...

Pay attention to your nonverbal cues,
and try turning it down.