I thought my summer was planned, a little less travel than the last, a little more love, a little less going nowhere lust, a little move to the big city of my birth, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe, a little more travel, a lot more love with a helping of lust, a big move to the little city of my birthright.
In my dreams, when I run away, it is always to the same place – that green island of mountain and rock and field and flower.
In my life, when I run away, it is always to the same place – that green island of hard and forever and lush and life.
Away from that stagnant portion of my life, that albatross that keeps me nursing a hurt, tender footing my way in love long, perhaps a place of birth constant is just what I need, just what we need.
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