Sunday, February 24, 2013

the sky's the color of winter

You take great pride in place. I know this: your cadences steady, you show me the corners and the landscapes. I interrupt and you laugh, but then you return. It doesn't matter whether or not you like these places, more that you know them, because there is a conquering in the knowledge.

I drove by the school earlier, and it continues to exist in halves for me: the half that I work in, begrudgingly, and the half that I lived in, that I only see when I drive up the hill and around the circle. I don't do that often. Once every sixth months, I'd say, when you're here or when the nostalgia hits just enough. Work is work, but when I take in other angles, I am confident that this is a place where I have been happy.

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