A Story Circle of Family and Duty

it was not without sweating that we sat

fanning ourselves in the heat of M’s flat

passing stories around the circle about family

and duty– each one of us painting a picture

entirely different from everyone else’s

but all using the same color palette

it’s quite an intersection to stand there

between contrast and commonality

with M using jugs as a metaphor for serving

and fulfilling the spirit and how we must be

kind to our own self first lest we empty

our own jug too soon and have nothing to give

each of us sitting in our own island

in Berlin as a foreigner without the familiar faces

of parents grandparents siblings aunts children

to look at every day or week regardless

of whether we have reached our familial quota

of duty or whether we have harbored a grudge

or whether we have canceled a relative

after having tried so hard to accept them

later biked home in the heat with my mouth

finally closed and the thick air wooshing past

in between hordes of rave the planet goers

and kids pushing out into the heart of Saturday

my mother always said you can pick

your friends and you can pick your nose

but you can’t pick your family and she was right

and rained the guilt of obligation to family on me

as if it were a job which is why when Sunday comes

I always think about calling my aunt or dad

like a dog who keeps coming back on the walk

to the same lamp post and lets out a little piss

even when he doesn’t need to go