Crash

He drives past my house so my father won’t see and pulls up in the cul-de-sac circle, in the woods, and shrugs because he isn’t sure how to kiss me, he isn’t sure how to navigate the center console, or how to keep the windows of his Chevy from steaming up, or even the best way to wrap his arms around me to express what he wants to express, without scaring me back down to the city, without letting me think he just wants to be friends, so he smiles, and I smile, and together we sit together, just for a few moments, in un-silent silence in his Chevy in the woods, enveloped in the crickets and cold condensation and a decade-long crush and a soon-to-be crash.

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