escapril

hometown: i'll be there soon

took the long way home today.
past the barn
falling in upon itself like a
crushed wasps nest
studied the local fauna
eyed each tree closely
they all look the same.
cigarette carton. marlboro. doctors office parking lot.
with a ball point i drew up an atlas and a map folded it until it almost felt like
teleportation
don't you see?
i could jump from here to there like a wrinkle in distance
arrive before the
coal dust ghosts float out of the sewer grates
settling in a neat film
on rooftops and maga hat brims
street signs and children
before the people stare
gazes empty of energy
sometimes i'll search for recognition
but only find my reflection.
i have never loved a place less
then whatever spot i'm in
because somewhere 
there are a pair of empty arms
waiting for me to fill them