Island Dreams

Out of the house of nostalgic hum, drumming from the next
yard beckoned to me—come here,
I kept moving,
feeling lightness of no ties, riding into darkness, passing someone
walking, a stranger in dusk, I
might know in day, silent past kids who yelled to the purple waters of autumn,
the brick river
house, a child again, distances incomprehensible and everything
close. Seeing him just across the way. Just the next
yard over. Always just across the way. Talking with drums and responding with silence

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