“A Star on the Edge of Night”

I like you best as an escape hatch to anywhere else I want to go, far or near. With you, all the possible adventures feel within reach, Baxter a little more than an hour, the island an hour flat the way I drive, the Bigelows and Tumbledown and the Mahoosucs a hop skip and a jump down Route 2. You hold an enviable place in the Delorme, and when it downpours, I prefer to admire you from the distance of a map than try to navigate your streets.
You are raw and gritty, as pure as a water sample of the Kenduskeag. For a transient looking for a fix or college student seeking out the opposite sex, you provide more options than Caribou or East Machias or Palmyra.
You are the epicenter of food seasoned but not spiced, of portions planned for someone recently emerged from filming Naked and Afraid. People from away may consider Portland the foodie capital of the state, but the Eagle’s Nest, the Friars’ Bakehouse, that place Mary Hart runs out on the Coldbrook Road, damn! In this regard, I revere you, I know which side of the Kennebec the true culinary talent lies.
Yet, to spend an entire day in your city limits, I feel like I am trapped at the airport or a bus depot or train station, tired of my reading materials and contemplating destination cities on the board that I never thought I would want to go. Buffalo. Virginia Beach. Charlotte.
Change my mind. I am so willing to give you a piece of my heart, I just need more reasons.


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