Where Was I?

March is settling in.  There is still snow on
The ground.  I am the cheese and macaroni you have for dinner.
I am the great Ghandi.  Don’t tell me March isn’t settling in,

I didn’t know it the first time before we woke at dawn
And the world came crashing down on our heads.  Sometimes,
I wait for you in the middle of the night, dreaming of your soft,

Silken hands and nose.  This is what I see:  a guy belonging
To me, seeing me for who I am, not what I can do for him.

I look outside the window and see the rain falling on the windowpane,
Rain scares me like violence scares others.  The patter of rain is like
Gunshots going off.  The patter of rain is like birds’ wings flying

North to Florida or Alabama.  I see better now.  I seek better resolutions.
I see myself crying.  It is what it is, born before us of greatness,

And words, round and clear as glass.

Where was I?