Sometimes it is alright

To look at your own photo albums and think, "No one can beat this."
To not write about why you haven't written for so long,
about why none of us could keep the towers up despite
all the breakfasts we've made and hooded sweatshirts we've worn
and the love we have sought from under them. To snow, silently.

Sometimes it is alright that you go home and I go home
and I don't even wave as the car pulls away. It is alright not
to give all the time, and not to want either. Sometimes.

Sometimes can be tonight, for example, writing for the first
time since the first world ended. Writing about nothing important,
and letting it whisper like the grass must do on the suburban lawns
where I grew and grew. Sometimes it is alright that you go your way

and I go mine, and in the middle, out from the rubble, grows up a quiet architecture.
posted by Adam at 8:13 AM [edit]