Uncanniness

I would be, should be, happy to come home
And yet I find this trip will not suffice;
It's not exactly that I find I roam,
But that, if I were totally precise,
I'm coming to a halt not home, not out,
But where I cannot be in either case;
A situation fraught and full of doubt
Not suiting to a homelike resting place.
What is the problem? Can't Chicago be
The home that I return to? Why, of course,
And it is often so, at least for me,
Without the need to try it with such force.
But that was when she lived there; now I find
She is the only home I bring to mind.