Return

This is an honest picture of what it is often like for me to return to where I once was...

Hell, I thought

as the cabbies

screamed and split

their fares at the

stop and crowds.

Not one face I see here

to pick me up; again,

my thoughts of them,

standing alone in this

as I slashed through slush,

ice, snow, rains, humid heat,

quiet dark, harsh sunlight,

and thought of them all,

deeply suburbanized

and steady with all their routines.

And me, in those holiday seasons

skipped by with bus, train,

even plane trips (can be done),

just to see those faces

so much older, heavy, light,

familiar and too strange for me

in a place that is always,

even now, Home.

Thank you for reading!

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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