Hometown

He said, let’s get out of this town,
and she heard, this place is below me,
but he meant, we can make a home
somewhere far away and more lively,
and she replied, it’s not so bad,
and he heard, I’m not much tempted
by your vision of a home for the two of us,
but she meant, don’t demean my hometown,
it’s where I was born, it’s in my blood,
and he shrugged, and she blinked
before looking away, and soon after
the lovers broke up, fantasies of home
conflicting, the shells on their backs
mismatched, one smooth, one ridged,
different species of turtle; different
dreamers, to put it in humanese.


Stephen Michael Antieau graduated from the University of Illinois in 2007.  It was a bumpy ride. Now, he is a brilliant dispatcher, a writer and author, a continuing student of history, a musician, an art collector, a heavy reader, a light runner, a feeder of squirrels, and a faithful if somewhat doubtful Chicagoan.  His temperament has always been slow-to-warm-up, and that also happens to be an adequate description of his writing career.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s