A pacific blue lampshade stands stout,
shedding regular-colored light
on a table that might be found
in any coffee shop in any state,
Specifically, it's lying about
the Starbucks just beyond the light
at Alafaya, eastern-bound,
and Gemini; university's gate,
Bait just like catnip, to this writer's soul,
drowned in caffeine, too many cups sold,
lightly-headed and bound for gold,
all doubts have been prolifically shoaled,
Clouts of soporific nostalgia
delight me past Arcadia,
wind up in Naples, Florida;
four hours of driving like a monster;
A prolific author returns home,
what was home, resembles a light
atop the trees, each one tall and stout,
from a distance, much shorter from up close
