I took the road hidden in the dead
of the city, where a heart of forest
canopied the cut-out path
past homes I could never
afford. Where everything fell away
for the five minute drive to its
conclusion. I shift
the car to neutral. My friend once said
a kid hanged himself from the bridge overhead
where my car slows to a creep
under its arch, cowered in shadow.
Trees shake in the warm wind,
branches waving like a warning.
I could keep going. I could
drive all day and still be here.
