"i heard the dr. pepper museum was in waco, texas"

'my life is funny,'
you said with a concerned grin
'these tables are turning
and i've yet to be dealt in.'
you put your pint down
and stood up and swayed
'it's hard to catch green lights
unawares these days.'

she asked you how you liked it here
'not enough to stay.'
she's not too fond of it either
but been here eleven years today.
places tend to hold you close
'not me,' you say
but other places have a gravity
even you can't shake.

you look distracted
and you talk in your sleep
you mutter things about
pray anyone your soul to keep
the bottles and cans
all have accusatory glances
and all the jokes about suicide
you feel were in bad taste.

all this fission
getting colder, getting colder.
every bit of this town
gets heavier, gets heavier.

visions in late november
a good week earlier than us
you buying tacky, duty-free souveniers
in a deserted airport shop.

three weeks from today i am heading home. and i've mixed emotions about it. i'm really ready. i've got that end-of-semester depression/lethargy that always sets in on me. when i don't want to do any work or anything of the sort. but i love this town. if i could have everyone that i cared about move here. i'd totally stay. but it ain't possible. home is where your heart is, as absolutely clichéd as that is. so i'm following my heart home. the majority of my heart's in chicago. in transit, in five days to london. but..then i feel like i could follow it anywhere.