Nomad

There isn’t enough land to live on. We seek people’s minds. We live there too. We walk away. Yet in their minds we remain. Sometimes we think so; sometimes they think so. Then we meet again — while we are living elsewhere. And we talk of being in a single place. They say a few things and we are often pulled back by memories. Sometimes we never remember. We treat that as new information. A dream.

Part of us moves back in, reluctantly. For things that once probably were. For things that could be. We never know. We are hesitant.

There isn’t enough land to live on, we live in their mind.