The great lakes.
The words I never have to say.
The cold heat.
The rusty coast explained away.
The snow drifts.
The storm that flooded half the basement.
Tires screeching on the pavement.
I hope to see you sometime soon,
silhouetted by the moon.
Fluorescent lighting, tile floors,
private clubs with open doors.
The sign reads
100 miles from my hometown.
The hard words.
Dragging feet on dirty ground.
Fuck those who say you had it coming.
To burn out,
I'm not alone, and I'm not running.
I know your heart beats with mine,
I feel you in my spine.
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