Dirt roads,
windows down.
Hot air
blowing dust into
our teeth
our eyes
our hair.
We deserved
a summer of freedom,
or so everyone said.
We didn’t even
have to fight for it.
Unsupervised bonfires
movie nights
“Mom, I won’t be home ‘til late.”
I have no idea
how we got away with it
or how we got out of there alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment