Iím having to learn to listen again

Home, where language seems to be different
More subtle, not the blunt trauma of the road
Where it is slathered with a paintbrush
Of Profanity, Judgment and Exhaustion

Home, where youíre no longer the center of your universe

Home, where love is in each word
Rather than the bleating demands of a ticket carrying space shot

Itís time to relax my defenses
And realize there are no threats here
I can leave my black mood in my black bag next to my black hat and my black back brace

Perhaps someday I will stop switching brains
Between home and the road
Or at least remember to switch them back
Before the plane lands.