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PoetryRecovery

These days I -
     attempt to run away
  on the beltway
     always finding myself
     back home.

     The clouds break
stratus-wise
     along the highway;
hair whipping back
     sleeveless in long pants
the evening air
     will shake me back to sense.

     Last night, 
     I got caught
in one of those early
     September rains;
I swept the water
     off my shoulders. 

     Inside I- 
met his eyes, he looked so 
     young, back in June.
Do I betray my age
     in this way?  

     When he got in the car
he narrated the mess
     at his feet
I shook off that mild embarrassment
     of being seen
by pulling a strapped heel
    from under his seat.

    On the way home
the rain picked up again
    my nose a breath away
from the fractal of tailgates.

Tonight, I've circled
     every home I've left
the skyline a painful pressure
    now that I'm in the driver's seat
perhaps it's not the leaves
    I came here to see
the quiet air, an echo
    when haunted - I feel
    less alone.

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