There are places that I go
that are special only to me.
I know, because I’ve brought friends there
and they always tell me, “No, it’s not that great.”
Everybody has a boundary
A place where things become less familiar.
When you reach it
you don’t quite know where to go.
I’ve spent a lot of time in the same place
Even when I’ve had chances to leave.
I’ll force myself to visit other places
but I usually can’t wait to get back home.
The strip of land that belongs to me is four miles wide.
It extends from one library to the other.
There is a bike trail that connects them and a river that flows past my house.
The golf course it full of memories. It runs next to the highway.
I see the highway man looking for golf balls. And I wonder about him.
There are so many people like that
who I know, but I don’t know.
And perhaps, it is better that way.