She left home with a flower in
her hair and her pink, light up
sneakers on her feet. She slouches
in the backseat. Her stare's fixed
on the splattered insect gliding
above the hills and barns and trees,
flying as fast as the freeway.
Her mother is behind the wheel.
The radio's on loud enough to
block the nasty thoughts.
And she is sobbing.
-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
©alektpoet
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