Almost Home, Always Lost

Clarity

Clarity is that loud song you play at 17,
And again at 19,
And 25.

Clarity is that obnoxious silent sound—
The one illegitimate parts of you
Refused to say out loud.

Clarity is simple.
Or so you thought.
But she skips alongside highways,
Chasing that ever-determined itch.

Clarity is feet on the ground.
Socks off.
Head sunk.
Head shrunk.
Elbows kneeling down.

Peace, like a river.
The cassette tape that was once home
Mocks you—
Jubilee and irony,
Eagerly watching
As you flee home.

A joke you played on yourself
Over twenty years ago.

See, see, see.
Sea, sea, sea.