I sit & watch the dawn creep Through under the door The tin roof flapping like a starved lark Breathing air into a set of broken lungs My hands stay warm around my glass And I take notice: I am whole There’ s nothing more to want, & if that’s so, there’s nothing left. I’ve escaped to towns that No one comes from Babies born on the road to Unburdened mothers It’s a half-handed happiness To have nothing more to want Laying on the floor of an empty Room recalling a season spent In a sleepy town, the cold Lingers on your lashes The skies taste of ponderosa pine Press your fingers between the bark & smell the vanilla Snow catches in your ankles As you stumble home Dizzied by jewels in the sky Maybe I will find myself stumbling back there one day… The thought fades & the tin roof Slams again The warm summer Sits still like a promise Yet whispered Beetles fall from the Cracks in the ceiling Dogs bark as the Train passes through There’s nothing more to want.
Sometimes, when lying in my bed late at night or into the early morning I think of all the places I’ve lived, all the roads and cities and towns that my soul has occupied.
Sometimes I wake up thinking I’m somewhere else entirely, thinking it’s yesterday, or last week, or years ago. I’ll remember all too vividly living on the couch of that one bedroom house in the redwoods with the pot bellied stove, or the apartment that would shake out in Chicago every time the train passed.
Sometimes I wake up in that motor home with the neon stripes & cheerio-incrusted wallpaper.
Other times, when half asleep and awoken by voices in the kitchen I can hear my sister laughing. The past is something I perpetually live in, though I cannot bear to say it.
The sky is churning outside and the clouds are starting to swell. Life’s not bad right now, there really isn’t much more for me to want, say for maybe some sort of slight normality. I just find myself missing places, picking up my feet, scouring the broken paths, but the birds have eaten the bread crumbs long ago. I worry sometimes, that I won’t find my way back, that I’ll keep treading farther and farther away, but maybe, if I close my eyes real tight, I’ll wake up and be home.