Displaced Persons and Misplaced Ghosts I was born in Ohio because that’s where my memory begins and I’m going to die in Virginia. In between I’m racing back and straining to get as far out as possible – if I can just get far enough from everyone who’s heard me say my name then sooner or later the momentum will snap me back home. Mostly I’m walking to places I’ve been before, glancing around between the songs in my head to check if everything is there – if the pictures in my head match my surroundings. It’s important that I get the details right – later I’ll change all the plot around them. The details are what’s important—what’s verifiable—things like how many gunshots was it, that startled my father into letting go my neck.  ¶ 10:56 PM