You have returned from the Pacific with only one double breasted shirt, finding it strange to be in the Inland Northwest, its railroads overflowing with trains, its highways overflowing with trucks, its churches overflowing with God cages, its sky overflowing with hot snow, and its overflowing river, that keeps moving, swift and soft no matter what is done to it
You have returned to the fields along the highway, where snow falls on hundreds of Canadian geese
You have returned to the Hutton Settlement, through the cast iron gate, down the long driveway, to the convent at the breast of a hill, where I am going to commit myself to, as I would an asylum
You have returned to the river trails, where I feel as though I can run forever, swift and soft over fresh powder
You have returned to the constant sound of river current
You have returned to the train tracks over the river, bringing the rushing urch of the orange headed Burlington Northern Santa Fe, with its steel feet and heavy bodied boxcars, making the earth surrender
You have returned to my running body, relaxing into infinity and opening wide to encompass the bodies of all human animals
You have returned to the sharp wet pine needles, just when I think the pain of your absence is too much to bear
You have returned to the street where we used to have a home, to see a new family is living there, who keep the blinds open as if there is nothing to hide, and decorate the windows with lights and shiny strands of plastic
You have returned to the river roads that remind me of nothing but you
You have returned to the black dam and the vodka blue waters that remind me of nothing but you
You have returned to the wheat colored Eastern Washington foothills, now frosted, that serve no purpose but to embody your masculine gentleness
You have returned to clicking your tongue in rhythm with the blues on the car stereo
You have returned to wearing a winter jacket that smells like tobacco
You have returned to Anicarella’s Market for cheap smokes and a free tree on Christmas Eve
You have returned to the Special K Pub, to Safeway, to Jack in the Box
You have returned to your son’s house to watch movies in Blue Ray vividness
You have returned to Ho Ho Teriyaki in the basement of the Flour Mill, where the old Chinese artist couple serve calmness and nourishment of the human heart
You have returned to Manito Park to watch how ducks searching for food in the frozen pond are more alive than anything
You have returned to the steamy greenhouse to look at the tropical plants and trees covered in Christmas lights and garland
You have returned to the fountain to soothe me with water sounds and make me high with wishing coins
You have returned from the Atlantic with only a plane ticket back East, finding it unreal to be in the Inland Northwest, its railroads overflowing with trains, its highways overflowing with trucks, its churches overflowing with God cages, its sky overflowing with hot snow, and its overflowing river, that keeps moving swift and soft no matter what is done to it

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