by September 13, 2016 0 comments

Just 3 days ago, in that other place, that home,
the sun set at 8:30. Now, It sets at 9:22.
Really it sets at 21:22. Everything is different here.
The accents, the company (none,)
even the sun.
On Wednesday I drank a boulevardier with family,
pet the dog, lazed the day away.
Now, I sit in a grey chair that a stranger bought,
in a studio flat that a stranger owns,
and I wait for work in a bustling office in a city far away
from my family, my dog, and my boulevardier.

– Sarah Bonaccorsi

editors note:

That disjointed feeling when self is where the sun sets… somewhere else. – mh clay

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