Western North Carolina

“Western North Carolina”
after Aracelis Girmay’s “You Are Who I Love”
Dedicated to Clare, Jen, Diane, and everyone in WNC

To the barista at Dynamite Coffee,
the one with the beard,
long hair, and blue flannel shirt,
who during weekday mornings,
for five years,
played James Taylor and Carole King
on the record player, and made me a cup
of coffee on my way to school.

To the grumpy mail clerk at the Black Mountain post office,
who only smiled twice,
in front of me,
when she talked about her cats
and the new scratch and sniff popsicle stamps.

To the guy at the liquor store
who wrapped my bottle of whiskey 
in a paper bag
and thanked me for my smile.

You are who I love.

To our neighbor Jim,
your front porch, family,
and dog.
To your front porch stoop,
where my husband sat with you,
and listened for afternoons.
The stories you told him.
The stories he told you.

To the bartender,
the waitress,
the wildflower farmer
who sold her flowers at a wood stand
in front of her home, all
on the honor system.

To the students I sat with
for morning circle.
The student who held my hand
on our way to recess,
to the students who asked why
when things weren’t fair, especially
for others.
To every student.

To the banjo,
the mandolin
that echoed out of the basement bar
and on to Cherry Street.

To the trailhead
that curved,
held me,
as I wove my way
through loss.

To the chef who made
tallow fries,
and the one who worked at Weiner World,
who fried all those pickles.
The one with the special recipe.

To the brewers of local beer,
especially the IPA.
To the local art.
The local poetry.

You are who I love.

To Jen.

To Diane.

To Clare.

To all those who I met on the path,
who made an imprint on my skin,
my life,
without ever knowing.

To the nameless.

You are who I love.