NaPoWriMo: Day 2

Familiar faces are always more suspicious to me than strangers

This town, it never matters how long you’ve left for
coming back always feels like an admittance of failure.
On my street, on the floor is our own piece of this town.
‘Allotment no 44’ in a row of dozens in a town of thousands.

“Home is where the heart is.” But my heart is not here.
In the bars, men bragging and braying about things they did last weekend:
“Pulling”, “Push-ups”, “I punched a lion in the throat”.
I feel like a visitor in places I have visited 100 times before.

Old school mates, changed from friends into new people with new lives.

A shared history talked about but tainted by an uneasy truth,

neither of us chose to stay in touch.

A flash of nostalgia, a polite enquiry, a brief catching up.

This town will still be the same when I come back again.

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I had problems with thinking what to do this one so I used this way to get ideas using itunes (it seems I work better with more constraints on writing) shuffle what came out was...

• "Allotment no 44"
• "This Town"
• "I punched a lion in the throat"
• "Pulling push ups"
• "On the floor"

Not the best bunch of 5 but it could have been a lot worse.