Distance


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Following white lines and memories

under a black velvet sky,

my mouth raw from muscadines

and what I didn’t say

on her front porch

that summer night

so long ago,

but would like to say now.  

It’s seven miles to her house,

but the kids inside aren’t mine,

so I guess the wisest thing to do

would be to keep driving,

let the odometer remind me

all the way home

that distance is the only gift

she needs from me.      

Nacogdoches

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