A couple hundred people
mostly familiar faces
People I grew up with
An old home
Fried chicken, biscuits, macaroni and cheese
I used to be so excited
It really was a reunion
The warmth was palpable, and still is
though I know my return would leave me feeling lonely
Distant
I have changed
So little to talk about
Yes, I can still learn much
about living simply
about plants, cooking, the weather, people who's faces I remember
but names I have long forgotten
our lives are so different
rural life, pastoral scenes
Chicken houses, corn fields
the smell of manure on a freshly plowed field
Distant memories
A part of my childhood
No longer
Now, just a man
Who has wandered too far
a runner who ran in one direction
Until he collapsed
home will be where he lies his head
he can see it in his mind, but
as if through a two way mirror
no longer a part of the conversation
time for coffee with a stranger
from last night
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