By Jolie Mason
I keep one foot in two countries,
Like Belgium and the Netherlands.
One foot in the future. One firmly in past.
It’s less a matter of can’t decide,
More a place to dodge, to hide.
If the choice isn’t made,
I simply adopt the customs that get me by.
The language I speak can be whatever I like.
The currency used is whatever I have.
On a border like that, who even questions?
One day the tourist, the next insurrection.
The funniest part about living in two worlds,
Is that neither is ever really mine.
There you sit at the cafe with the line;
Same table, same meal, same drink.
You will be here tomorrow, that is what I think.
Or I could cross and be gone this time.
I could visit a church or see some red lights.
I hear the flowers are especially fine.
I could take that one step, right over that line,
And wake up in the next day, in the next place to be.
If I just pluck up the courage, what would I see?
If I would only start walking, I could travel in time.
You could keep to your country,
And I keep to mine; red lights, churches, whatever.
If I would just find the courage to walk out of the past…