What A Way With Words

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High frequency residence
The last legs of adolescence
Swept out from under me
It’s no wonder that seekers are a rarity
All alarms go off craving ease
And familiarity
But letting go requires courage
Unwavering
Which possesses me
Yet leaves me not untouched
By the hounds of disbelief
Noses nudging over bared teeth, crooning

"Go home to your little space
On Pond Street”

But I root in

No
I’m going home
To high frequency