We sit in the back, each with an arm crooked out a window, miles on end, not passing a word. Pressed to our doors, undeclared, we compete: whose left
will tan darker than whose right? Ladybug
on the odometer, numbers flipping, travel trailer in tow, I tell you now, on this final stretch home, I’m as close to my sister as I seem to know how, leaning
as far from her arm as this Ford will allow.
will tan darker than whose right? Ladybug
on the odometer, numbers flipping, travel trailer in tow, I tell you now, on this final stretch home, I’m as close to my sister as I seem to know how, leaning
as far from her arm as this Ford will allow.
by Charles Hansmann
Sea Cliff, New York
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