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Driving Through Your Ex’s Hometown - Andrea Lawler



There’s Main Street

where we drove up and down holding

hands, drinking PBR ‘til the sun

crept up while the rest of his hometown slept.

There’s the neighbor’s corn field he tore up

and lost his pickup’s license plate in. He never

did find it, neither did the cops, and that’s okay.

There’s the run-down gas station you prayed to God

took credit cards at five in the morning. To your right

is the ice cream parlor he took you to on the hottest

day of July. You sometimes swear you can still smell

that cherry vanilla sundae, sliding off the cone,

melting onto the concrete sidewalk.

There’s the turn to his house you used to take

just to see if he was home, and he usually wasn’t.

So you kept on driving.


 

Andrea Lawler is a poet, essayist, and crazy cat lady. She holds a degree in English Language & Literature. When not reading or writing about sex and death, you can find her at the local coffee shop.

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