I.
What can I tell you about
the arbitrary lines between us?
We were in love
and then we were not:
Here is you and here is me.
But see in the road
how quickly the deer goes
from dead in one county
to dead in another.
II.
Southbound, you say,
We must be in bumfuck. Look
how all the stars are out.
Only trees and highway and now
the distance between us.
III.
Leaving you was a task like anything
else. I'd chart
your imperfections, I'd navigate
my narrow heart.
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