Hi, everyone. My name is Rupi Kaur,
and I'm reading from my first book of poems,
called "Milk and Honey."
The poem is called "Vacation," on page 97.
did you think I was a city
big enough for a weekend getaway
i am the town surrounding it
the one you've never heard of but always pass through
there are no neon lights here
no skyscrapers or statues
but there is thunder
for I make bridges tremble
i am not street meat
i am homemade jam
thick enough to cut
the sweetest thing your lips will touch
i am not police sirens
i am the crackle of a fireplace
I could burn you
and you still wouldn't take your eyes off of me
cause i would look so beautiful doing it
you'd blush
i am not a hotel room
i am home
i'm not the whiskey you want
i'm the water you need
so don't come here with expectations
and try to make a vacation out of me