If you stop me on the street and ask me who I am
I would be caught off guard…
-Pedestrian, I guess… I do not drive… I love walking in the snow… in the rain… in the heat…
Moments of my many lives recreated in the rhythm of steps….
I came from somewhere else and my accent exposes my foreign roots…
Russian, you guess… Yes, a Russian Jew from Kiev…
Born in Moscow across from Red Square…
American by choice.
A foster child of this fast-paced mother who does not baby anyone:
Hers, or adopted, we fare as best we can…
But when she cries, we rally together to comfort her.
I dream my Marxist dreams in English,
But if you wake me up unexpectedly, I mutter in Russian