a gust of wind caught my newspaper today
folding it all over itself
as i sat outside of a café,
a humble patio
with very few seats,
on the corner of the busiest streets in the town i grew up in,


i knew a storm was coming.

i lost focus
on the article i was reading,
it was not very interesting anyhow.

it struck me at this moment,
that i was drinking coffee
on another plane of existence.

while i have been here before
in this same seat
staring out on familiar sights,
sounds

it all came down on me at once.

i recalled the last time i had sat thinking in this seat.
i recalled how many times i had wished i was
still living in my hometown, sitting in this seat.
i recalled the exact moment i realized
i did not think about, or miss,
this seat
or the town i grew up in.

the gust of wind passed and gave way to rain.

the rain rolled in
with first a flash of lightning
far away,
and then thunder seconds after.
just as i remember the storms
of my old coastal home,
with their characteristic way of striking
out of a seemingly brilliant
summer afternoon.

I stood up from my table,
the newspaper soaking on its wood,
and began to walk to my hotel
in the downpour.

knowing, without a doubt,
that if I had the urge
to write something about this later

I would not know how to end it.