When Sukaton considers roads he’s trod
From SoCal to the District’s alabaster
It seems the opposite of a disaster’s
What I have had, through fate, or luck, or God.
Though fate dictated that my native sod
Remain beyond, however tight my grasp or
In short, that no neighborhood be my master.
And so, from coast to coast my brood did plod.
Pennsylvania, California, home?
The Steelers and the Dodgers cast some hooks.
The Union and Republic stake their claim
But frankly, standing in between I roam.
My roots are people, teachers, friends, and books.
Perhaps my rootlessness there finds its blame.