Friday, March 27, 2015

Not One of Us

I miss my old haunts and I miss my youth.  I miss the dilemmas of driving to boulder creek or finding a gas station along five. I miss memories rising up with roads near my old homes.  I miss poor friends who never showed up when we needed them.  I miss my marginal successes I've turned into triumphs in retelling.  I miss tables where I first said I love you and parking lot fights.  I miss needing to escape because we escaped.  I miss understanding it was all too much but being too tied in to get out.  I miss sitting on the hillside waiting for the world to end, we missed it and now its time to head on home.

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