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Mobile Home

People have apartments,
Condos at the shore;
Homes up on a hilltop,
On streets in Baltimore;
I live in mobile housing,
A home without a bed;
I’m self-contained and living
Alone inside my head.

I speak with voices captive,
That only I can hear,
That dwell within the recess
Behind the inner ear.
The ever-present presence
Of ghost and wraith alike
I’m never lost from comfort
From those that I dislike.

I travel where I’m thinking,
No planes or cars or trains;
No passport is required
And no confining chains.
I live in mobile housing,
A home without a bed;
I’m self-contained and living
Alone inside my head.

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