Home is Where I Am

I have fallen into middle age
contentment, years after we quit
trying to force our day-night cycles
to align. It was the madness of repetition,
following the path of our parents. For you,
a country house and chickens
in the yard was the goal. I wasn’t
interested in porches or having friends
over. Like wasps we tried to shape
the hardening space between us,
you redecorating each room
and I wandering farther
and farther afield. I was in love
with the quiescence of the grocery store
at midnight, the lowing of trains and the sigh
of air traffic, the lure of an exit ramp
that I hadn’t taken before. Each dot
on a map a colorful lure. Ever fly
an overnight transcontinental flight?
The world a dark plain and occasionally a bubble
of light marking where the people are. I wanted
each one like a lover. What else is place
besides the origin of our story? It’s not
enough to pass through.
I want to love it before I leave.
I have fallen into middle age
contentment, years after we quit
trying to force our day-night cycles
to align. It was the madness of repetition,
following the path of our parents. For you,
a country house and chickens
in the yard was the goal. I wasn’t
interested in porches or having friends
over. Like wasps we tried to shape
the hardening space between us,
you redecorating each room
and I wandering farther
and farther afield. I was in love
with the quiescence of the grocery store
at midnight, the lowing of trains and the sigh
of air traffic, the lure of an exit ramp
that I hadn’t taken before. Each dot
on a map a colorful lure. Ever fly
an overnight transcontinental flight?
The world a dark plain and occasionally a bubble
of light marking where the people are. I wanted
each one like a lover. What else is place
besides the origin of our story? It’s not
enough to pass through.
I want to love it before I leave.