\tSAVANNA IDYL<\/p>\n
I wonder how things come to be sometimes.
\nI think I live in my heart too much.
\nI\u2019ve got too many doors and windows in me.
\nLike an actor who can\u2019t find himself.
\nMy wife used to ask me,
\nwho are you now?
\nHow\u2019d you come that way?
\nAnd I admit, it\u2019s like asking a child,
\nwho are you playing with?
\nWho are you talking to?
\nAnd I say,
\nI don\u2019t know,
\nand then keep still.<\/p>\n
I suppose it\u2019s because everything
\nhas a story.
\nGets made up.
\nThe way a house is put.
\nWhose romancing who.
\nWhen I go to Bonaventure Cemetery
\nI get confused sometimes,
\nbecause I hear a clamor.
\nEverybody talking at once,
\npretending to be somebody.
\nAnd I calm myself
\nand walk with them.
\nThey\u2019re not dust,
\njust dead,
\nand wanting to belong to somebody.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s where we belong that saves us.
\nGives us a place to be.
\nLike traveling to Europe
\nand still being in Savannah.
\nLike knowing what happens there
\nhappens here.
\nEverything\u2019s history,
\nourselves included.
\nLike being a city inside yourself.
\nNothing ever dies.
\nEverything\u2019s busy barking and talking
\nall the time,
\nbeing somebody,
\nor pretending to be somebody<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
SAVANNA IDYL I wonder how things come to be sometimes. I think I live in my heart too much. I\u2019ve got too many doors and…<\/p>\n