You live too far uptown
too far away
from anything resembling anything.
Your neighborhood reeks of
“nothing going on”
and your neighbors reek of suburbity.

I don’t belong in that world
struggled to leave it
when I fled for college
four years ago.
I can’t return to those lands
– not so quickly.
Not so easily.

So why don’t?
What pull do you have
to drive me to such northern lands
with such frequency?
What makes me a slave
to your home
and your presence?

I mean, after all:
how good
could your biscuits really be?