Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

On The Roof

by BethAnn Caputo

I think of us,
Imagine a neon line painted on asphalt.
I claw at the boundary, stripped bare
Dig my finger nails deep
just to watch them bleed.

These places we have come to fear the worst,
turned inside out
could be a different world--
let the past leak down the gutter,
dream out loud.

But we forget that in people,
there is some devil.
No force, however strong
can weld a crooked pipe straight.

and it's cold
and it's cold
and it's cold

We are homesick most for what we have never known.

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