there’s something that i’d love to capture
in words and poetry
that i don’t know if i ever will
because i can’t really explain
even in sense memory
the vibes of the car ride
through protected valley park
and up into the city/suburb
that was my second home/
that i knew was my grandparents’ first home/
that my whole family had worked
or played at
or seen
at least once,
and how it kept that vibe
of excitement
and homecoming
for so long —
long enough that i can remember it
as an early early memory
riding in the backseat/
riding in the passenger’s seat/
driving myself/
knowing where i was going to
was where i belonged
even if i felt just a little out of whack with everyone
it was more like a phase shift
than a whole different universe
[like most of my life]
and i could get lost
in the flow of acting
or dancing
or singing
or hanging with friends
or creating something
or everything
and simply the anticipation
of arriving at a place
that i knew so well
and felt
was mine
that even the drive felt like
home
[and it’s actually very different now,
but last i was there
it still smelled the same]
kipventures 