July 28, 2007 § Leave a comment

Why did I keep it, and why did I let it go?

Through how many years and cities did I carry the book?

Gazing with anticipation at the pictures
but never quite finding the expected thing
and always believing it was there

if I looked one more time
if I turned one page I’d somehow never turned

and would I know it when I saw it?

To you, the circle may appear complete:
I’ve returned to my Home Town.

But a single place on earth is home
to those whose walk is solid,
weighted by long roots.

I do feel the pull, and always hear the call,
but packing for this non-return
I either gave up on ever finding the page
or realized all at once
it was elsewhere, closer at hand

than a book on a shelf
in a shop that spoke
to a girl
whose sharp intake of breath
each time she saw the word, Utopia,
on its spine, defined
the nature of her choices
from then, on.

October 2006

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