love and the liberal’s lament

the problem with cities is that their trains become our rivers
their shops our seasons
we know this
subways make the breeze
sidewalks make dust not dirt
the only thing real is the sun
the only thing fake is this reasoning

is there any way to mediate
suburbs town-country sprawl
commute
farm
combine
commune
we are trying sooooooooo hard

but where is it ever good enough that the wanderers can settle
there will never be a place
not when we rode rafts
nor when we ride planes
never even when we reach the stars
for some of us
there is always more
because we forget that we have enough

how do we remember?
post-it notes?
alarms?
the escape itself?

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