lit by the full bloom moon
my night-self feels the end of another day.
the soft pad of my feet on the empty cement, echoes
as they carry me home.
the smell of fresh laundry from a thousand times before
then—the sudden ache of familiarity, from nowhere.
[...] to some music that goes HAM. And yes, musings about dance parties belong on this blog. As do poems about walking home at night. This is all about finding the light in the [...]