I had to leave my country

 I was born in a garage.
 far over the hill,
 where small streams
 and tree ferns bunched and danced together in the slow breeze

  I made my way over that hill,
down toward the small city,
where I was to live.
There I was reborn into mundane village life.

 With wood and tools and saws,
 hammers and boredom and nails and concrete.
 I walked out of the garage and into a car.
 I painted the car many colors.

 Then became part of the car.
 I opened the car door.
 I walked freely on the footpath,
 where people could see me/

 Where people could analyze me.
 Where people could see the clothes I was wearing,
 the words that I was speaking,
 the gestures that I was making.

 The body language that I couldn't hide.
They judged me and they said all that they could say about who I was.
 
Then I walked into a school,
 and I found myself learning.
Then I walked out of the school and into a job,
 and I found myself working.

Then I walked into a relationship and found myself fucking.
Then I walked out of a relationship and found myself alone.
Then I sought more and more and more and more,
Until I had to leave my country...