in my childhood home i had a window
and when it was open, in the evening
before i went to sleep,
i would press my face up against the mesh
and smell the dirt on it
dirt that had grown wise with time
soaked with city smog,
mixed with plastic
and yellow lights
and asphalt
and dandelions

dandelions, the yard was full of them
taraxacum, soft, and bright
like backyard stars

"im an alien who could never go home"
i thought

i wanted to cry,
or mourn, maybe for the earth
if i even knew what earth was

if i even know what earth was...


drawing of my window
...................        ....................
 .               .----------.                 .
 .               .     |    .                 .
  .             .      |     .                .
  .           ..       |      .             .
   .         ..        |       .            .
   .        .          |         .         .
    .       .          |           .      .
     .     .           |            .   .
      .   .------------+------------.  .
       .  .            |            .  .
       .  .            |           .   .
      .    .           |          .    .
      .    ..          |         .      .
     .      .          |        .       .
    .       ..         |        .        .
   .         .         |       .         .
  .           .--------+------.           .
 ............ .              .             .
                            ................

2026-07-24