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by Chandy John
by Chandy John
You
fool yourself into thinking
That
the place is yours
You
possess the land and time
The
little restaurant on the corner
Where
the ladies smile at you
The
eight minute drive to the airport
The
bookstore owned by the local author
The
time, the space, the clear blue skies
The
sweet fall air
The
blush of purple on the bluffs at sunset
But
when you betray it by moving on
All
of it moves on as well
As
if you were never there
From
Chandy John: I
am a a pediatrician, researcher and author whose prose, poems and
fiction have been published in Sojourners, Phantasmagoria, JAMA, The
Pharos, Annals of Internal Medicine, Journal of General Internal
Medicine and The Michigan Alumnus. I live and work in Indiana, Kenya
and Uganda.