just four today
Tomorrow, I go home.
Back to where I’m from at least.
I first take a seaplane from this island, to the capital.
From there, to the lower 48.
Seattle to Chicago,
O’hare to home.
If I keep repeating the steps to myself,
It seems less.
I will not allow myself to break over seeing that many people.
I will be fine.
My heart beat will realize that in a moment.
I wanted to call him up,
Just so I’d have someone to shoot the shit with.
Maybe to see if he’d answer,
But more of a wall,
To bounce my excess energy off of.
And to hear him laugh.
No matter how hard my mother tries,
You can’t manufacture a good time,
I can try praying to the gods of conversation,
Please, oh please,
You strange forces of peace, serenity, interest, and chatter,
Come down upon us in good faith,
And give us those good memories my mother is always talking about.
I don’t really want to see them.
Hang on a second,
I’m not finding any longing in my heart.
Do I have to go home?