How do you overcome two decades of training?
Twenty years of suitcases subsituting for wardrobes.
Couches for beds,
lovers for partners,
memories for friends.
Can you define something by what it’s not?
By closing your eyes and touching everything around it
until you cut yourself on the edges.
Home isn’t a career,
or a hobby.
It’s not another late night of pizza in someone else’s house.
The homes I know aren’t places.
They’re lines in a musical,
they’re the first four bars of a Mountain Goats song,
they’re a DVD of us, ten years ago,
stupid, and happy.
Home is the part of me I see in you.