Free your mind – poem

via Being called a writer..

Go some place else, somewhere you have never been before. There is more than one way of doing things, more than just this life here. More than one place you can go and live; want to see it. You might be surprised. Know what I believe and what foreigners think. Hear another language, speaking to you. Even my American accent sounds good some place else. I lived where prostitution, gay marriage and gambling is legal; illegal to have a handgun. I never saw a prostitute, I know was a prostitute, anyway. But, I was in a few hotels where men stopped me, walking through the lobby. I smiled and kept going, remembering where I was. No 2:00 AM cut off at the bar closing at 6:00 AM; taxi home.

I smiled again, every time I seen two older gay men holding hands, walking down the street. I was happy about their freedom to do so. I had to get used to the cops not having a gun, just in case, some shit pops off. But, I didn’t mind adjusting to it. The no left turn; glorieta’s are round intersections and driving on the wrong side of the street; some places. Trafalger is one of the circles named a square where, I met people. If they call you, they coming by not using the phone. I thought “way out” meant far away, instead of “exit” at the train station. I didn’t know a pram is a baby buggy and drinking on the sidewalk is common. I didn’t know a lot of things. I know now.