Sunday, December 9, 2007


The rain washed away the dessert dust from my shoes. Scrub bushes were replaced by office buildings. Herds of antelope anxiously running along the road were replaced by herds of anxious commuters driving erratically in the winter slush. Blue skies and dark, star filled nights that made you ache to write poetry were replaced with the claustrophobic mix of office buildings and crowded freeways. I am back from a weeklong business trip. Is my warm, dirty apartment home, or is it like the old saying and “Where I lay my head is home?”

1 comment:

Genevieve said...

You posts are always so poetic. I'm so jealous of your ability to write with such fluidity. ;]
I guess home is where you feel most at ease. I've been thinking about this lately as I generally would call "home" the place where all my stuff is but I feel most comfortable at my boyfriend's house. I guess "home is where the heart is"? I don't know; I'm still figuring it out...