In December there will be a long sleep
to wash away these dreams.
I’ve spent three months half-awake, far from home, and lost in thought.
Four days ago I was conscious,
Hurtling down familiar roads in the dead of night with an even rhythm –
smoke in my eyes, a teenage riot on the radio, and thumbing the steering wheel
like a rosary.

But then I parked, and I waited, and you came.
In December there will be a long sleep,
to quell this anemia
and draw a deeper breath,
and wake up
and be home.

A week ago, I arrived back in Durham haggard after 30 hours of travel, unshaven and exhausted. My luggage was lost and my eyes were nearly closed. I’ve had this week in Durham, in that place that I have for months been referring to vaguely as “my city.” This has been the longest week of my life – there have been hours that have seemed like months, in the best possible sense, and between them I feel like I have been in perpetual motion, barely stopping to sleep. In about half an hour I’ll get in the car and drive back to the airport. RDU – Newark – Madrid. I’ll be in Madrid for the next four months. And in December I’ll be home.

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