I stand still. Legs give.
Hands shake.
Someone is leading me into a crowded hallway.

I just want to go home; I just want to feel at home.
Is it a person? The doors blur by.

Is it brown eyes? A laugh I hate? Pale skin? A voice I hallucinate?

Is it blue eyes? Trust? History? Half-awake truths? A lifetime guarantee?

Is it age? Wrinkles? A parochial comment? Gifts? Expectations?

Is it my childhood house? My current house?

Is it the mountains? The city?

Is it real? Tangible? Obtainable?

Is it comfort? Contentment?

Is it love? Lost? Gone?

Is it him? Her? Me?

Am I home; am I home?