Ache

Let's make this one quick and painless, I can't cry anymore. It isn't true, of course, I have oceans of tears left and I'll wring myself dry before this is over. We stand in the courtyard hugging, but I look away when they walk out. Remind myself of the west village streets that await me. He says, I want the kids and the family and the home, you know, but the airport radio says tramps like us, baby we were born to run, and you're not sure if he believes his own words. You see travel in his eyes, and it stirs the nerve endings in your spine so you can't sleep. A huge storm passed through the city, storms are always stirring when you prepare to go, perhaps it is your wake up call. My brown skin and pink feet arrange themselves properly, pack their bags like a thousand times before. I want to settle down.

But you don't know what it means. 

And baby,

You were born to run.