he says,
it reminds him of all that past,
the miles crossed beneath our soles,
under the grooved tired tracks,
beneath the wings and wind
that bore us home.
the dust that clings, that follows me home,
to a place, a somewhere that knows nothing of
what i have seen, what i have felt.
where i have been.
all this STUFF glares at me from the floor
reminds me of the thoughts in my head
pieces that i just cant quite put together
i cant fold them into neat piles, or put them away
so they are shuffled from one corner to the next
constantly rearranged
until i find a better place.
a safer place.
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