loneliness that will not abate, no matter
the guarantee of the talking-to I give
my thoughts. The birds have once again
made a nest on the porch column. This
year, a new species has taken possession,
added its own touch, built up a crown of
straw atop the swallows' mud nest. Let
everyone new come and dwell here; let
me leave, let me go elsewhere. Let me fly
far away. Let me time travel. Let me
(
the path to where I always imagined
going. Let someone ask, when I am
gone, why did she leave so
suddenly. Some days, I fly far
far away and never leave home.
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