a day full of gifts
waking to a beloved friend;
connecting with another
a dear poet who rides
a road companion
for the journey out of
Baltimore.

cross the Pennsylvania border
“the independent state”
my birthplace.

stop 50 miles from my hometown
to put on extra layers
the symbolism makes me
laugh out loud
in the Wawa parking lot
on Highway 1
check my tires
take a breath and
go.

no place
can reach in and grip
your heart
like the place that
grew you.

came back
triumphant
on my own terms
riding over
Pennsylvania’s winter-worn roads
drive north through
a corridor of ghosts.

today is the day
Philly policemen
bombed a home on Osage Avenue
in 1985
when I was 1
cops have been killing black men
violently
under an open & public gaze
for a long time.

every time I return
here
I feel lonelier.

arrive
to
an
empty
house