Homesick
I point my truck south
And speed down the interstate
Mile after lonely mile -
Nashville, Atlanta, Valdosta -
Finally, pulling over to take
A picture of the Florida state line,
My heart a little less sick,
Home a little closer.

I meander through the back roads
Past endless cattle pastures
Orange groves, and sugar cane fields.
I revel in the terrifying ballet
Of the interstate at rush hour.
Hundreds of thousands of people
Going on about their lives,
Unaware of my presence,
Except as yet another vehicle
Between them and home.

I stop at all my favorite places,
Scotts Landing, Montys, Loggerhead.
I drive twenty miles out into the glades
To hunt for alligators
Basking on the banks of the canal,
My camera at the ready.
I take picture after picture
Of things I cannot see where I live now,
Of the sunset painting the skyscrapers red,
Of sailboats bobbing at rest in the marina.

Sitting in the shade of a sprawling
Live oak dripping with Spanish moss,
Feeling the caress of the moist air,
The kiss of the ocean breeze,
I think I may never leave again,
I wonder why I left this place to begin with,
Not the home of my upbringing,
But the home of my heart,
The home of my choosing.

Then, without warning
I miss cornfields.

Homesick
I point my truck north
And speed up the interstate
Mile after lonely mile -
Gainesville, Atlanta, Nashville,
Racing back towards the place
I thought I wanted to escape.
I guess sometimes
You have to run away from home
To learn how much you love it
You have to run away
In order to come back.