Moving to Western New York

When I came here, I kept my head down
When I walked across the streets-
Where I come from
We don't smile at strangers.

When I came here, I bristled
At doors held open for me-
Where I come from
We walk as if we alone exist.

When I came here, I felt wary
At the strange openness in the faces-
Where I come from
We have our blinds pulled
All day long.

I still find it unsettling
But I am learning to smile more
Be suspicious less
Of the metaphorical hand,
Stretched out toward me.