Where do I belong? Where do I fit in?
I’m only comfortable in the spaces in between.
Not at work
Where I strive all day to succeed
Where I stress under deadlines
Where I straighten my pencil skirt’s hemlines
Not at home
Where I go into overdrive
Where I feel like it’s 1955
Where I warm frozen triglycerides
Not with friends
Who are just starting lives
While I’m pretty much almost done living mine
Where I permasmile behind a glass of wine
Neither here nor there
Not a place that’s mine
Not a place where I belong
or a space I can embrace time.
I’m in the box car
wheels taking me from close to far
but never where I want to be
which is the spot where I fit in
wherever that may be.