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You drape your wrist over the steering wheel
of your weathered 2004 Hatchback Sedan,
and with each mile
down the vacant highway, we drive further away
from the polluted city
and cigarette smoke
that tries to define us.
Your smile grows larger.

I hang my head
out the window in laughter
Over something you say about your addiction
to loving the Universe.
Nobody can hear my howl but you
for as soon as it escapes from my chapped lips,
The October wind steals it

Giggling along on your Sunday dream,
I sit and think to myself,

Shouldn’t this last

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+Featured Image Credits: Annie Barron