By connecting to Facebook I am connecting to my family. We are homeward bound. The mountains are sucking us back into their nook. It is Utah magic. The bubble. Here comes closely the ending of this Telemachia. The prodigal son returning.

The pressure’s on, but I ain’t gonna crack. We are enroute to achieving wise warrior status. Though our backs are broken, we have done much. Don’t let it end, sweet baby crystals of youth. Though you do not know me, you warm my heart with your presence. I have been here for so long, a hermit earning digital degrees of my own making, climbing up Bedford past the church on my left. New coffee roasters giving me compliments to keep my wallet closed.

My nerves are less taught. I’m stepping into myself. Bibles coming through. Make way. Baby on board. The grey nineteen splintering into the Oceanic Six. I’ll be home soon, Dad, I say. Trust me. I guarant it. I tried to keep us all together, but we just couldn’t stick it in the larger world of suits and cars. The selling of ourselves, a race that I am wandering lost within because, try as I might to stay focused, I’ve still got my eye on the flickering star. The Snitch. Holding out for a hero. Unable to shake the hunch of trickery.


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