how people can make a place
I mean, a place is always a place,
but sometimes it’s not really about
the space, but the people filling it.
Like, you know how the name of a
place can take your breath away?
Or like, how traces of stolen cigarettes and
blooming trees will drift through your window or
that irritating comfortable feeling of a cracked
leather seat printing maps on your thigh or
a snippet of that stupid song the radio jockey
always played at 3am instead of talking about
whatever because who’s awake at 3am
will take you back, and for a second, you
can almost believe you never left?
But then it’s gone, just like that, and even
though you didn’t ask to go and even
though you never asked to come back you
And because you mostly know you can’t really
go back, you say you’d pay big bucks to forget
but you know you’d shell out some serious
dough to remember every single part of it?
And so you love and you hate a place
because of a person
because all of it might the core of who
you are now, or the only reminder
of the person you were then,
and you’re afraid to lose any of it
and it was never about the place
anyway, because I mean, what
is a place, but just a place, and
really it’s about the empty passenger
seat of your car or the fact that when
they ask you how many you go to say
two, but realize, it’s really one and as
they walk you to your table you look
down and notice that they’ve finally
got new carpet laid, and yeah it looks
better but it’s not the same?
It’s not the same. You know?