Saturday, I'll finally be living in Jamaica Plain, if all goes well. I'm changing my blogger profile after this post.
Had to walk home in the rain without a coat or umbrella. East Eighth in South Boston has it's own pocket in time. The street works against me usually when I'm leaving for the T station, but today was special. It has topped even the CT3 bus on my list of things I'll be glad to leave behind.
A poem later? I hope so. I've been sitting on the roommate poems, which did flow more easily once they were all gone. I want to write the last few rough notes before I leave here.
More to come.
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