Where I come from, you do not wake to vast blue, cloudless skies.
A sun hat is not needed for the average summer day.
And there is never talk of monsoon rains, or Champagne powder snow.
Where I come from, our buses rarely run to printed, tabled times.
There’s no town bus that offers rides up front to bikes.
And never try to turn through red or amber traffic lights.
Where I come from, after that certain age you wear shorts only to the beach.
Footwear is not flip-flops or classic cowboy boots
And office staff wear neat dark suits with stripey shirts and ties.
Where I come from there are no urban bears who plunder rubbish bins.
You won’t see odd bald eagles sitting in a tree,
And there’s no entertainment watching capering chipmunks.
Where I come from there is no chance to sled with husky dogs or catch a rodeo.
Your nose is not assailed by smells of flattened skunk,
And no wooden sidewalks are to be found downtown.
Where I come from no bank will know your name as you walk through their door,
Or ever dream of serving customers with coffee,
And no one greets you as you as you pound the streets.
Yes! We may speak near versions of a common mother tongue.
We share the constellations of the northern sky,
Yet that Atlantic pond means more than watery divide, or change in time.
Bristol, England, and Steamboat Springs