life is driving east.
Atlantic tides
untouched.
so fast to rise
and slow to reach.
we'll figure it out, somehow.
jet plane rides
in moonlight
crossroad nights
and for sale signs.
not our life
or family.
we own who we are.
we are what we keep.
the rest is stuff
in cardboard homes
waiting curbside
or given away
existing only
in picture dreams and
memories, good ones I'd say
however temporary
from here, our first house
on Cherokee.
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