Its possible if I lived in your neighborhood,
downtown and sidewalks and curbs and things growing at will in cracks of
pavement or in pots by stoops;
or on your street with all the houses in a row
and straight lines and the dawn brazenly casting light across it all.
Or maybe your apartment on a small curvy street
with so many different homes tucked in here and there, the land flat and the
wind wild,
its possible I would simply fall in love there,
too, because it would be what i knew, what I watched and lived with each
day, what I cared for.
As it
is, I live in New England, on the foothill of a tiny mountain range, where
there are woods and then farmers and farmland everywhere you turn; where I go
discover so many indistinct trails to let him run on, with ravines and tall
hills stretching up far above us, and small streams that curve along the forest
floor down below.
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