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.