when you move somewhere
far enough away from home
you might get there faster
digging down instead of
flying around
and you land and see what will
become your new home and
as you spend the morning wondering
where you’ll have breakfast (and if
it will contain a tree-worm)
you walk the streets and take
in the sky and the sun and begin
to wonder how on earth all of this
will possibly feel normal. feel like
home. and then you live and you
live and one day when you’re running
home in the rain you realize you’ve
arrived and it does feel like home
but you dont know how you got there.

and somehow dwelling on it too long
like the spelling of a comfortable word
makes the whole thing seem once again
uncomfortable