Alone, for the first time in several days,

offers a welcome thought: I go where I want.

A rainy day- reminds me

of the mountains, in fact.

I fill my grocery bags with goods.

Now I can cook things.

I add new music to my repertoire.

I take a wrong turn, but that’s okay.

I’m led to the beach, a downtown

gray beach and its calm waters.

Empty because it’s nasty out. I see

the burger place that saved me last year,

when I was too hungry to drive

anywhere else.

And this new home now has a bed,

now a bottle of bourbon. Now I’ve woken up

here and seen how silent the mornings

can be. Albeit, this is not Home,

not like I want it to be. It is more

like a dream, like slide guitar-

a sound not like original fingerpicking,

but you know, serves its purpose.

I will miss many things while I’m here,

but last night I went to a club without walls.

Just a pond in the middle with a bridge.

Everyone was smoking. Dancing.

It was a long way from Home, but it felt nice.

And money is an issue.

When isn’t it, though. I want to share this

place with you. I don’t want to be here

on my lonesome, with not but my mind

to talk to. Although, I bought organic soap

and will start a compost pile soon,

so you’re here in my heart. In the silent morning.

In the cusp of something more,

as rain collides with pavement and the beach

becomes not so far away.

And I think to myself, You’re going to get this

right. Maybe not at first, but you always planned

on coming in third, anyway.

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