penned at some point in college
I want to leave the Cambridge cold,
return to down-home
hospitality,
a world of
"babe" and "hon"
and easy smiling,
food for the soul.
Dreams envelop me
like aromas wafting from
the kitchen:
us, walking in Memphis
together, hands in
harmony, feet in time
with the Beale Street Blues.
Loving the endless summer,
days dragging on
like cicada songs,
knowing that truly
I am home.
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