Brooklyn's been my home for 3, 4 years now. After awhile it starts not to matter, with the days and weeks speeding by, endless hours logged working the grind.

Back into Brooklyn via the BQE, I take in the towering high rises and the cityscape of Manhattan set in relief against a setting sun. I recognize the angles and slopes, like the familiar face of someone who used to have my love. And just like the memory of an old love, I can't find those misplaced feelings that this scene used to arouse in me.

I used to watch the ink of possibility dripping between the letters of every city morning, and now I just miss the way those Carolina sunsets seem to know me so well. The romance of anonymity worn down to the heartache of loneliness.

I watched the sunset over the wings of my plane. Sinking rapidly into the stretched line of the horizon, mission accomplished, over and out. But even after it was gone, it left fiery streaks of red and orange smeared across the sky, like footprints of a better love.

My heart is a safe place for all of this. I know it is.