Go Home

Casie Turrell

READING TIME: 2 MINUTES

Bailey Young/The Baron

She stands at the tram stop.  

She wishes she were wearing her 

Grandmother’s purple  

Coat. 

The one that keeps out the chill.  

The one that keeps 

Her 

Warm.  

 

He sits under the canopy. 

Wishing he had a cigarette. 

Wishing he  

Were 

Smoking.  

The cancer pursed between his lips 

Would fight off the ache 

He feels all over his body. 

 

The city is wild and all you can do is 

Fan the flames 

Stoke the fire 

Go home and dream that you are home. 

You never have enough. 

It isn’t ever enough. 

Go home and dream that you are home. 

Mouth open 

Already drunk, you’re still guzzling. 

Go home and dream that you are home. 

 

They both glance around. 

They’re looking for  

Trying for a sense of 

Direction. 

But the world is endless. 

Trams run on rails and we 

Run  

In circles.  

 

You bleed  

To pay your way 

But blood works  

Just as well as money. 

When the cold comes 

The white lights  

Won’t help you 

Warm yourself. 

 

So run. 

Up and down and east and west. 

Go home and dream that you are home. 

Run. 

Your tram is leaving you behind. 

Hurry up because we all have places to be. 

It’s raining and the city looks like Christmas lights 

And you will never sleep again. 

Go home and dream that you are home.  

Go home and dream that you are not.  

 

You can close your bedroom  

Door 

But you cannot close 

The world out.  

You are 

A part of it. 

Connected like a  

Spider’s web. 

 

All 

That 

Beautiful 

Evil 

Noise 

Cuts 

Your 

Bones. 

 

Go home and dream that you are home.  

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