literature

Ode to Montero

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Literature Text

I didn't like you at first.

You were too bulky and too big,
and you disrupted my comfortable homeostasis
with an efficiency that told me
I had no choice but to rely on you.

The first time we were together, you brought me
to an airport, where the wind tasted my tears
for the first time since second grade summer.

I was thirteen, and I didn't want to leave
but you wouldn't listen, and you forced me to believe
that I needed to go.

You didn't look back, and I was left
to grow up in pain and in pretend-smiles.

One day you brought me back,
and this time it was for good.

You'd bring me to places only to leave me hanging,
take me away when I needed to stay,
keep me haunted -
and you would never ask much of me,
and I would never tell you the parts of my story
that you couldn't see, the parts
that happened after you'd left me -
and sometimes I think the parts that really mattered
happened when I was with you, falling asleep
or talking to the stars.

Because the places you'd bring me
were only ever pins on a map and
ticked-off boxes, and with you I would stay,
with the sidewalks and city lights we flew past
teaching me more about life and love
than parking lots and garage doors ever did.

You took me to all the most brilliant skylines
but in the end
you always brought me
home.
We had to sell our car today. ;_;
Sorry, I get attached to inanimate objects. *sob* I didn't even get to name him wuhh. Oh well. I'll miss you, 'Sport.
© 2013 - 2024 neonsquiggle
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