03
Feb
The sterilized pocket of small city streets
Fits neatly inside a two sheriff seat.
There’s a girl that drives through
and smiles at me
Her eyes are alive and learning to see.
Our distance grows with miles and lanes
until watching the clock is all that remains.
And older she gets with each new pass
Showing symptoms of sadness and unhappiness
It’s wisdom she gains but rubber she burns
the road is unpaved but she knows all the turns.