Ducked into a plane
with bags hanging from my limbs
and flew back to my corner of the east coast.
Shouldered open the door
I'd last seen weeks before
just to wish I'd cleaned up a little.
I need home
I need the houses and fields I counted from the plane
between me and that book on the floor
that I stare at but it doesn't move,
away from the clutter of a misused closet
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