Sometimes we speak in dreams
and the mind has a dream of its own.
The long shadows of drinks on tables
or a small shadow in the shape of a body.

There are those who leave but
will never return. A sign flashing
over the bus station and it says, "History."

Thinking yesterday about circles.
It goes like this: something is new
and therefore strange,
and then old and boring.

There are some sounds only strangers can make.
"I'm just getting a bit nostalgic," she said
and I felt bad. She was saying that she felt a pain
at returning home before she had even left.

It's funny what a city can do to a body.
Thinking in twos. To leave and to return.
Neurons firing like that.

-- Scott Silsbe