Somewhere sits an old conversation
A passage, poetic, muscle reflex
A sadness. My day-to-day devoid
Of wistful thinking
Yet, here; new friends
I have respawned in places
I’d never heard of
Know inner city streets
Better than some
Of these people
I share my food and wine
We talk about our differences
When did I become
So one-dimensional?
Nostalgic for that bond
I had with brothers and sisters
A pack strewn across the land
By careers and economics
Not quite as snugly fitting back in
When the chilly breeze
Catches the back of my skin
Hairs standing up
I am uncomfortable
With everything


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