3.06.2008

in our new house, i can now sit in our office up in the trees
and gaze at the city lights through palm fronds
it's not the stinky place i used to know and love
it's so much better now, so much more light
and it smells cleaner

but i can still hear the singing garbage trucks down the alley
stray dogs calling their final words for the day


i am reading my high school friend's poetry
and also looking at photos of a place where you can go in college
and close yourself up in a cabin to read and write all semester
i went there when i was 21
both remind me of another life, the one
when there were autumns of turning leaves and compost heaps,
tea mugs warming my hands as i comfort myself with nose in books
hearing nothing but wind in trees for hours and hours
falling in love with people for a brief time,
but they were so very needed and special during that time


i always wonder...what is it that will make me remember Taiwan,
what smells, images, poetry?

to be reminded of this evening, 
i'd need the palm fronds and city lights of course,
also a clear blue sky over a mountain silhouette
whispering songs and a guitar
an itchy mosquito-bite shoulder
a painful reminder that we are made of so much more than what we show each other
the relief and loneliness of sleeping children
and nostalgia

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