There are places that I go
that are special only to me.
I know, because I’ve brought friends there
and they always tell me, “No, it’s not that great.”
Everybody has a boundary
A place where things become less familiar.
When you reach it
you don’t quite know where to go.
I’ve spent a lot of time in the same place
Even when I’ve had chances to leave.
I’ll force myself to visit other places
but I usually can’t wait to get back home.
The strip of land that belongs to me is four miles wide.
It extends from one library to the other.
There is a bike trail that connects them and a river that flows past my house.
The golf course it full of memories. It runs next to the highway.
I see the highway man looking for golf balls. And I wonder about him.
There are so many people like that
who I know, but I don’t know.
And perhaps, it is better that way.
Just Poetry 
Your meditation on our identification with place struck a very responsive chord with me.
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Thank you so much for reading Liz! 🙂
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You’re welcome!
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some prefer the familiar, i’ve moved too often 🙂
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Thanks for your like of my post, “Life;” you are very kid.
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Have you ever read Marc Augé’s Non-Places? The text is somewhat dense, but I think you’d like it, and it’s certainly relevant.
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I haven’t read it, but I will definitely look it up! I am always looking for a great read. Thanks for the read and the comment Boxer!
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