The places I miss
are not places I’ve seen–
they’re the ones I wish
I’d gone to; the Nice Slice
on Thayer St because that’s
where everyone I liked
from Rhode Island hung
on Friday nights; the Isabella Stewart
Gardner museum because it was
green and lush, unexpectedly, at its middle;
the warm-aired track at Mt. SAC
in California because it would have meant
I'd made it there, qualified, to run.
The places I miss
are the people I might
have maybe been.
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