Brunch
corners of a country
seen between nights in broken hotel rooms
or sagging couches
life is a weird web of wanderings
reflections i don’t know
what to make of
even over a beer
in an east atlanta bar
at 2 pm
on a sunday
there is no smoking ban here
that’s the most obvious thing
but it sure beats a cafe
and maybe even
my lonely couch in chicago
when i’m home i don’t know
where to run
when i’m gone, i guess i
just never stop running
and there’s a little part of me that understands
the appeal
of “living life” meaning
never really facing life at all
it’s not my specialty
it’s not like lying awake
alone
with an alarm’s obnoxious blare
five hours away
i never really learn
i just keep writing
it’s not the easy path
just the only one i know
sometimes it feels so
crazy to care
even when i’m calm
even in those rare moments when
i believe not just in the future
but also in myself.
