Halfway down Center street, the message comes in. Bags packed in the trunk, New York clothes back on. Your flight has been canceled. Nothing to do but to turn around, bring all the travel jitters to the full moon and try to settle in. Time passes differently in the country. You said you wanted a few more days, she writes. The full moon speaks to you across the valley, says the country has not forgotten you even when you have left it behind. Says you have places left to go. Places left to come home to.
Says there's miles left in this tank,
and new lights to show the way.
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