A World Map of Scars

My body has become a world map of scars. Everywhere I go, I carry stories with me, some more exciting than others. On my knee, from falling down on a dirt road hill in the Dominican campo, tearing an even bigger hole in my old jeans. A scratch on my stomach from Chinola, in my house in the DR. My foot, from a piece of rebar sticking out of the sidewalk around a baseball stadium in Santo Domingo. The other side of my foot, a spider bite maybe, here in my house in Moz, and another mark reminding me of the Christmas holidays I spent barefoot in Tofu. And now two more bites on my arm and knee that will surely scar. I take the world with me wherever I go.