Tuesday, April 05, 2011


They're moving to Indianapolis, Ashville, Austin, New York City, Providence. They're jumping from the ground and drifting in the wind, floating, floating, until they land home.

They don't know what home looks like, but they know what it is not: It is not drafty houses and belligerent in-laws, it is not crumbling apartments and groups of trendy teenagers, it is not yellow grass and tall, looming ex-boyfriends.

I want to believe they will look back on this place fondly.

I wonder if I will always be longing for someone or something. Anywhere I am, I think of the places I am not. I want to split myself into a dozen pieces. I find the most mundane things nostalgic. I think melancholy is one of my favorite emotions. (Not to be it, but to feel it.)

I picked up my feet and got swept away, to the east. I think most of my breadcrumbs have disappeared.

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