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.