don't cry for me Jamaica, Queens, i was nothing more than a shadow across the Ave. in self imposed exile, i walked the streets one last night before finally, penultimately, i departed from my gulag...
one last sojourn through the air to reach my destination. home. you know, where the heart is...
true dreams of flyover states passing underneath, to a faux-promised land for a final wait and a short jump to a place rapt with as much guarantee as apprehension.
this is gulag in the 21st century...
Thursday, October 28, 2010
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