slowly she's getting used to that ditch
the one on the side of the road
where tires go
when they blow out --
scrap metal from car wrecks
scrapped up emotions,
from wrecks of another sort.
she don't mind it so much
as long as no one looks inside.
but she's hoping to get a ladder
or a rope of some kind
a hand reaching in to pull her out
drag her back to shore
she's sure she's not meant to rot
among these ditches.
she's got bigger plans than that.
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