never have i ever

matt and sam, rose's web camera. oberlin oh. 3.2009.



ohio is keeping me up deeper into the morning than manhattan usually does.

the nearest 24 hour diner is a twenty minute ride away. the road looks like route nine. the restaurant looks like a Restaurant. the clock looks like it has bad news.

we woke up in the morning and went to the oberlin market, drank tea and sopped our sorry stomachs with bread that still had oven heat. gray sky came into the window. this town knows how to pull all my heartstrings, make me homesick for massachusetts-

three go-to towns for the night, for not-our-town.
parties with people you already know and mostly love.
bottle rockets
roofs
blades of grass snapping in half underfoot in the 4-am cold frost
five-person-cars.
all of us standing in the middle of an intersection because it's okay, because roads just turn to giant sidewalks after this town's bedtime.
big sad star sky.
sleepy loving saturday breakfast for lunch.

but most of all,

friends leaving one by one, every day a goodbye, okay, alright, be well, have a great time, catch your bus, there's always one leaving when there's more than one of us.

i guess i forgot that part of small town life, that people don't stay. they'll all come back, of course. oberlin's spring break is next week. but that doesn't keep oberlin from feeling like a stop on the way to somewhere. for better or for worse or for better. for everyone.

i will miss it. i already do. one of the most familiar and reliable talents of small towns, that longing