If I feel lost, or trapped
and must escape my father
who comes driving out of an apple orchard in the fancy car
he got from his third divorce
then I can crawl through the corn rows
on my hands and knees and find my way
following the sodden ground towards the water
growing colder as the sun sets
and float down the creek back to my mom’s house
which the new owners do not keep as clean as we did
I'll hide in a plush sleeping bag when I see his blue car
make a left turn down the road
and then I'll find that this must be his very own sleeping bag
that has fallen off the roof.
I do not want to be close to it, but I must stay hidden.
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