The Voice Issue 29: May/June 2017 - Page 47

Her mother taught her never to hitchhike,

so she runs.

Always racing the cars as they zip by.

Always peeling her eyes open, even underwater.

Always hoping to find it.

Her father taught her how to cook up delicious lies and sell them for money.

So her pockets are full but it weighs her down so she has to empty them.

People follow her, collecting the coins

Mesmerized by her struggle to find a home.

She runs at night because it makes her feel dangerous.

She runs towards the sun because it burns

in only a way that love can.

Sometimes she stops,

pauses by a minty house

or a steel apartment complex.

But she neverstays.

She is searching, always.

walking, waiting.


- angelaweasley, Burlington, VT


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