Coming Home

Coming home left
me with a sensation
of having been away.

Everything was as it had been.

My absence was false
stagnant film on a ripple
flooded by the act
of opening my front door.

It was all waiting-expectant

Too much myself
and too illuminate my
distant familiarities.

Too much
too come back to
after never having
been away.

Afterpart

It was nice to be stoned tonight.
Listening to liquid words
Fall from red wine
and music.

It was nice to be seen as I’m not
In an outsiders eye
And, “Watch me perform,”
And getting
to know who.

You drop names like a cigarette
And simmer,
“do you have a light?”

I like the insecurity.
It’s a silence
Falling into late night.

Website developed by Lynn Danzig