if there’s a place I could heal
I want to be there
I want to curl up inside
the moments before the ecstasy of two feet turns
into agony
touching the ground
between a quicksilver kick and
a frozen hinge, between a 
sentimental reach and a full-throttle
I want to build a home
where transitory moments disperse
the journey between a gaze and a touch
what happens when journeys become homes?
what gets replaced?
who will visit?
who will get lost?
where will we put the vase of tulips?