transit

oh god, i do not miss the lust and fire
of my youth so much as the presence,
the shimmering immediacy of action
and the footprints of freshly piled history.
older now, i live in a lean-to constructed
of found objects, shelter against
too much absent thoughtfulness.
if you are hell-bent on calling me out
of this place, at least call me into another
as well. at least give me that impression.
i will not rest well without a place.

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2 thoughts on “transit

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