Lights out and fly?
I'd rather walk, feet feeling the rubble of the road
in Arkansas, the red clay dust clinging to white sneakers
over the creek
remember that sunny Thanksgiving Day?
it must have been 70 degrees and the stepmother's family ignoring me and you?
the creek called that day and when I sat at the bank, that warm sun shining on the top of my young head, grateful to be away from that dreadful house, that dreadful step grandmother who bought me socks at Christmas
the creek, the sun, the breeze
no one else around