What does it mean
that ever since I've left there,
I haven't stopped writing
about Timber City,
its long dusty roads
that are no longer there?
I long to go back,
back to my city,
but all that was home to me's
up in the air.
There are blocks and buildings
I don't recognize,
and I see the signs
I saw in the big city.
Now there's more ways than
I once knew to get around
-The sea level isn't happy
and her low timbre's sitting
in her lifelong wait
to wash us all down!