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At Home
the wind whistles through my hair like a thousand blow dryers
then it’s the ring of the phone as it echoes through the streets
this is what reminds me of home.
a large golden retriever stands for a moment enjoying the breeze
it looks to its owner for a nod to continue on
passing me by, dark brown eyes look sadly into mine
this is what reminds me of home
taxi cabs and honking cars, traffic jams and lightly paved cement sidewalks
it’s the little things never noticed and the ones staring you right in your face
the awful smell of the dumpster as you turn the corner on the street
it lingers with me the entire way back, sticking to my clothing
the differences in this city are what make the deepest impact
they leave an etched imprint on my clothing
this is what reminds me of home.
dirt creased in the cracks in the driveway sitting next to chirping birds
chipping paint on the mailbox in front of a suburban house
a dog rushes to greet me with muddy paws and scruffy fur
i am home.
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