HomecomingDark eyelashes andThe taste of cigarettes, the fringe of my memory. Blue Mountains strike the sun low—it bleeds across the sky into the coming dusk. There I was silent witness to your theft: pale legs crossed, navy skirt, draped innocently over the oak branch of a grandfather tree. The favorite perch of my girl, my childhood friend with whom I discovered the world— Now you with your brok en laugh and hol low smile and cheap makeup A stolen memory. usurper. thief. Visiting home after a century, I found you instead... Instead of her. A puzzle piece warped by spilled alcohol, never to fit squarely again. Disillusion is nostalgia’s disappointment. |