The Boy from Providence

He's coming back
On a Tuesday afternoon
So he can have some sunlight
Before he heads out
To revisit his mistakes

He eats at his Mom's
But jubilation at his return
Is quickly cooled
By the familiar silences
That surround
The family table

So he goes out...

He rides by the beach
And kicks sand towards the waves
Even though it's cold
And he's too old
To stay at a place
Where castles take
Mere hours to build

He drives through the city
And meets his old roommates
At a bar where it's loud enough
To see the words
But not hear the voices

His friends toast him
With anecdotal poetry
And praise him

The boy from Providence

For making it back in one piece
Surely only to leave again

They're used to having
Temporary friends

They drink and leave
And come and go
And beneath him
The Earth moves closer
To a point he doesn't know

Where he will be solid
A real person
Without tangents
With assurance
And proper nouns

He hopes that when he gets there
He'll know that he's there

But he knows this isn't here
He knows this isn't
Here