Homing Pigeon
Anonymous: what I can’t
be here, back at the spinning
center, the starting line, my
days of passing unseen,
easily wandering empty sidewalks
faded—shot home to roost.
Good neighbors press close. Reluctant
homing pigeon,
I wonder, sometimes,
just what brought me back.
Kicking my way out at twenty-one, open
lanes of highway pulled
me south and west:
not far, but far enough,
Omaha just city enough for me to
perfect my solitude, to
quit who I was done being.
I
retreated into the
safe crowds in the knowledge
that no one was hovering.
Understand: distance is precious, my
voice is too loud for this town. Love
weighs heavy hung so near.
I
examine the past too closely here,
years cracking away,
crazing, myself again exposed.
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