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  • Tim Klaum


The gravel crackled under

my tires as I crept of

the driveway that was so tight

that the car screamed

as we reversed.

Then, just as suddenly as

it had started, the car

went silent once we

shifted onto the dirt roads

that connected each house.

We drove for hours,

just me and you, the radio

blaring out elegies

until we forgot

what had happened.

Through towns smaller

than some houses

back home.

Through intersections

that felt as though

they had been abandoned

decades before we met them.

The lights seemed to

cheer as we drove past them,

like they hadn’t had the

chance to greet someone

since the intersections

were abandoned.

The gravel driveways became

paved roads, and the paved

roads became highways.

We left the small town behind,

just as so many did before us.

The first sense of freedom

that had come in a while

came out of that tiny town

with the dirt roads.


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