This coffee shop is home.

Earrings out; headphones on.

This music is home.

A place to land after long night makes long day longer.

These memories are home.

Four walls of mind for walking through time.

A whole heart holds to broken things.

I am not home.

I am not in your arms.

Your arms are Chinese Landing strip.

Your arms are baked Alaskan salmon.

Your arms are distant, warm; too far for wanting.

Your arms are front door to foreclosure.

Your love is Fort Knox debt approval.

Your arms are home I can’t afford.

These memories are gold mines.

We are tremors.

Warning of what’s to come.

Earthquake kisses, shaking the dig.

I am breaking.

A bedrock shift.

I would kill for cracking foundation,

Dripping faucet, shattered window.

At least I’d be in my home.

I am long sleeves cold.

I am oversized vest, scarf, hat; cold.

I am lonesome heart dressed in pretty things.

I am not home.

Home is your arms.

I just want.