top of page
  • Writer's picturewhit

BACK ROAD

There's a back road on the border of town that takes you to the interstate and restaurants and bike trails.

There's a back road  on the edge of town that I drove to run away from missing you, from feeling inadequate.

There's a beaver on that back road on the brink of town close to creek that builds a dam, that isolates itself.

There's a back road  on the frontier of town that I drove today to escape from you, to escape from growing up.

I passed the dam and I saw that beaver dead in the middle of that ​back road.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

the sound of my dad’s guitar playing his favorite chords the typing of my mom’s fingers going through family records the smell of the ceramics studio full of the kiln, dust and glaze the running home

it’s the little things they always say like how you listen more than you ever have before or how you stopped opening my car door like how you squeeze me tighter in our hugs or how you don’t answer me

I cant remember the last photo i took maybe it was a mountain maybe my niece maybe myself maybe you looking away no matter what it was it’s the last thing my lense has seen which means it means everyt

bottom of page