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Driving in the Columbia River Gorge

*Sacred Spaces come to exist When breathless lovers Look into one another And see their souls reflected* On Saturday night I drove out in the dark hoping to return to ours Kept company in the empty seat beside me By your phantom presence I guess the route I took though was not the one we had gone together and it wasn’t so much return As reclamation Strange, I noticed, that where once was holy, hushed and waiting Was now bathed in industrial light Had become abandoned amber that, if we’re being honest, reprimanded me. This was not the place where we stopped to rest. I suppose alone I was the trespasser On a way that opened only for the two of us.
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Written by
marcella-barnes
Published
Feb 24, 2012
Lines·Words
22·122
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