Albuquerque scars

Sometimes I am reminded of the scars Albuquerque left upon my mind.
As I remind my boyfriend that when he closes a window he must latch it
because that one time, a man saw me alone in the house and tried all the windows until one opened.

Sometimes I am reminded of the scars Albuquerque left upon my mind.
As I hear a car slow behind me and brace myself for the catcall,
thinking "I should have put in earphones" so that they might believe I cannot hear them.
So they won't honk or swerve in front of me, because they think they deserve my attention.

But here the car turns without anyone rolling down the window and I breathe a sign of relief.

Sometimes I am reminded of the scars Albuquerque left upon my heart.
As I listen to a story about an unknown device a coworker found,
and I think "that would be a great whatsit for the 2600 meeting"
only to remember I don't go to those since I moved. They wouldn't be the same.

Sometimes I am reminded of the scars Albuquerque left upon my heart.
As I sign the paperwork to donate part of my salary to my old library there,
and think about how poor my neighbourhood was and how many of those kids could use more books.

Sometimes I am reminded of the scars Albuquerque left upon my heart.
As I gather parts for my latest project and wish I had a Sunday hacknight coming up
so I could show it off even though it's not working, and people would still be excited.

Sometimes I am reminded that it is micro tears that make muscles strong.
And the heart is a muscle.