february looms like a tidal wave, just out of sight.
i can feel him swell and roll, closer now still,
a fighter held back in his corner, waiting for the bell.
with the calendar flip, he’ll be released at last,
to charge and roll and come at me hard
with all he’s got.
and all i’ve got,
are 9 home days, the rest away,
washed out to sea with the suit-clad crowd,
a seatbelt sign, fluorescent lights.
with every checked bag,
another big picture view
of the rockies, mystery cities, your neighbor’s pool.
from 6D and 10A i squint sun-side to search,
i’m always and ever just looking for home.