Burning bridges

You’re either a jughead sports fan, college student, or masochist in Boston. And by masochist I mean heart broken lover. People don’t stay in a place with history like that if they’re not nostalgic about something. You live with ghosts. You walk with them, sit by them in the park, get on the T with them, ride your bike passed them, sleep beside them. You’re a passerby and they’re your history. I met a few widowed poets when I lived there, one lived in my room. Anyway, what I mean is, people don’t stay in places where they’re haunted everyday by something if they’re not masochists…