i leave this city
knowing that i'm leaving something behind
a rock, a totem, a token
breathing in the salt air fixed something that was broken

to remind them all
that i'm not quite done here
something calls me from those swaying trees
and that aching summer breeze

so i write the notes
in the margin of a shredded paper napkin
addresses, escape routes, should i ever feel the need to run
and the distant certainty that the journey's only just begun