I don't feel like I'm at home anywhere. A lack of closeness. A lack of solidity in my surroundings. Everything feels its in passing. A lack of permanence. One foot out the door. Clothes in plastic bags. Trunk is full. A sense of detachment is present in all things. I want to find home. I want to find the bed to lie in. I want the warm breath on my neck. The hot meals. Less feeling of replacement. Less feeling of nothing.
An ocean of towns and cityscapes. I am set adrift on rivers of black. Places and people on their islands. I float by and we wave. A welcoming smile and a beckoning call for fleeting moments on my pontoon. I know the asphalt calls me. I know the lights guide me through the fog. I want the land. I want to stake my claim and burn my raft for firewood. Root myself next to the parking garages, streetlamps, and skyscrapers.
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