home is when it's enough

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sometimes it happens in the passenger seat of a car, a smooth stop at a red light. it's not happiness, but contentment. no temperature, no conversation, no time. a moment that could persist, continue to infinity, become forever, and i would be o.k.
then the light turns green, the car continues, time continues, and i continue with it. and i lose it.

i find it again on wednesday march 22 at 4 in the morning, alone in my bedroom. perhaps it's not even there at all. perhaps it's somewhere else, but a bit of it leaks into march 22 at 4 in the morning, into my bedroom. i purse my lips and hold back a smile. this could be it. all of it.

and later ...
"when it rains like this, i understand that the world will forget me."
and it feels good, everything painted gray, stopping my bike to overlook the currents that flow through the ditch.

the friction between your fingers and my thumb. the heaviness of amber streetlights. songs with real bass lines. dancing in my kitchen.
it's not too much.
it's not too heavy.
it's enough.
home is when it's enough.

Created: Aug 02, 2012

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