its the first time i havent left with the summer folk
i biked to the beach and i watched them over labor day weekend
letting their kids run for a last time into the ocean
folding up their beach chairs and shaking the sand out of their towels with extra umph
and i have to say its nice here
with no tourists no traffic no lines at the post office
the leaves actually do blow down the street
and there's no one in their path
at the library its just me curled into a chair reading a novel about love- arent they all-
and a few old men two finger typing away on the public computers
i like that
i like this
i do
but ill tell you what gets to me
every morning i wake up to the sound of geese
i lie on my back and listen to their honking slowly fade away
i wish i had a destination hard-wired into my brain, into my DNA
i wish i could fly in a pack of people I know and love, doing the one thing i know how to do, to the one place i have to be.
pooping on peoples heads would be pretty fun too.
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