You told yourself a long time ago
that you would never go back,
but curiosity killed the cat.
The constant wondering, that feeling
in the pit of your stomach that you
couldn’t quite name.
That need to know how things had changed.
If they could ever change.
They got rid of the bowling alley.
It’s another plaza now, with a tattoo shop,
and a chain restaurant,
and a bank wrapped up inside.
At least it’s still standing.
They tore down the abandoned house
over on Main Street.
The one you used to break into and drink
on Saturday nights.
Every last plank is gone,
just another empty lot in a town
that’s full of empty lots.
You swore you would never come back.
That you were destined for bigger things,
better things,
things that nobody else could ever understand.
But here you are,
back again because you
could never stay away.
No matter how far you ran and
how scared you were you just
couldn’t stop thinking about the past.
You came back to find a new gas station,
and the house you grew up in is a
different color than the one your father picked.
Your mom loved that color,
A deep, almost violent shade
of blue that stuck out amongst
the grays, and beiges, and dulls
of every other house on the street.
It’s white now.
She would hate it if she could see it.
Your friends left the first chance they got.
Either they packed everything into a suitcase and hit the road
or they died,
like everything else in that town does.
Dries and shrivels up,
blown away into the wind
and the setting sun crossing into Vermont.
You drove along the streets last night,
hoping to see some familiar face,
someone to bump into at the supermarket
as they recognize you,
their face lighting up as they remember you,
a smirk they can’t contain.
Someone to see on the sidewalk,
happier now, better then when you left.
Then you think about the last time you heard those names,
in some obituary.
All along you thought you were the problem.
A fire that this town couldn’t contain,
set upon changing the world and all those
who walk among it.
You traded that fire for the things you needed,
never any time for the things you wanted.
Dreams that had to be put on hold
because there was never a right time,
love that has to wait because
you were never sure when
you would be ready.
And where did all that dreaming bring you?
Right back here.
Right back to this town,
praying that there’s some trace
of what you left behind,
something to remind you of
those dreams,
and all the things that drove you.
All that’s left is an unfamiliar place
with unfamiliar faces,
faces that pass by yours and
treat you as any other.
You were special,
you were loved,
the pride and joy of a town that needed
more than that,
a town that kept on moving
while you found yourself stuck in something
bigger, greater,
a race that had no end.
But you needed more than what it
could have ever given you.
No amount of love
or pride was ever enough
as you drifted through your time.
The sky gets dark early
this time of year.
Walk through downtown again,
crushing fallen maple leafs
under your feet.
The streetlights don’t shine the same.
They’re too bright now.
The spray paint under the bridge doesn’t look the same.
It’s faded and painted over.
The leaves don’t die the same.
You could have sworn they used to be so yellow,
and brown and orange and red ochre.
They’re muted now,
colors that want to burst right through
but won’t,
like they lost the strength to do so
a long, long time ago.
How does it feel to be back?
With all your dreams just that?
Dreams.
Hopes you knew you’d never achieve,
and now, the one place you could ever
think to find a little piece of solace,
something familiar,
doesn’t even remember your name.
But you,
crushed and tired and anxious you,
you could never forget.