Like Going Home

Like Going Home

You're going home, she said,

and in a way she was right.

This home though,

merely occupies real estate in my story.

A city whose narrow streets and gloomy haze

linger in my periphery long after I leave them.

Parts of my being exist only in this city.

Nights spent walking its twists and turns,

booze-fueled conversations set on fire escapes and stoops

as night undetectably spills into day.

Pouring out of a sold-out show

into a deserted street on a sticky summer night,

buzzed on music and beer,

and the friends you swear you’ll have forever.

These now distant memories of carefree youth,

Reunite with me only when I return there.

It is an inexplicable connection,

an affair with a place that awakens a sense of self.

This city and I,

like two strangers passing through an alley.

And yet,

it does feel a lot like coming home.

by Adair-Hayes Brown