jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

home on a sunday


it’s six-thirty local time
& I’ve exhausted
all my free passes
having encircled the globe
these past forty-eight hours
arriving back home
unceremoniously
& empty-handed

exactly what I was expecting
I can’t begin to say
but this time I had a feeling
something would be different
like happening upon
a door or a window
only I would be able to open

but no such egress
was in the offing
& now I’m back to the only reality
that I’ve ever known
planning on accumulating points
for more free passes
thinking next time
things will end differently




august two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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