Remember that bar up the street,
parking lot teens, patio furniture,
crooked pine trees, broken architecture.
We glanced around, found the corner seat—
Was this the place no other could beat?
(Girls without groove, that gap-toothed creature,
the smell of stale cigarettes and wheat
beer on my shoe.) We had no closure
with friends we found. We now forgot
how many miles of dirt we fought
through to be here—this quiet town
bypassed so many times. Meandering around
vacant ranches at midnight just to find
a point where the road unwinds.
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