Where I talk to my friends
Where I learn my lessons
Where I say my prayers
Where I tell my stories
Where I get stressed
Where it’s always too loud

Where I still don’t know what to say
Where I always have too much to do
Where I run shirtless without shame
Where I read my poems

Where I ride my bike with my mullet flowing
Where I laugh at my own stories
Where I hung my TV on the wall and only watched it twice
Where Buddha looks over my bed
Where the guitar stares at me
Where an unfinished self-portrait begs to be completed
Where a photo on the wall stirs dreams that might not be dead

Where I tried to get lucky, but never did
Until I realized I’d been lucky the whole time

That’s my neighborhood