by LIAM CRESTWOOD
Do you miss the town where it felt like the street belonged to us?
We could walk down the asphalt unafraid of oncoming cars,
all the drivers were hiding behind their home’s locked doors,
the only lights we saw were street lights and disconstellated stars
just bright enough to bring a glimpse of the universe to our street.
Do you miss the town where we would untangle headphones
from our pockets to show each other a new found song
like we were sharing the underlined passage in a bible?
Do you miss the town where every backyard was occupied by a dog?
They constantly barked at us as we walked by, warding us away,
treating us as trespassers in the neighborhood we always lived in.
Do you miss the town where when the nights had grown too cold
we’d get off the streets and grab our guitars to write a song?
We were trying to add to our doctrine, but felt like false prophets.
Each lyric and note we combined would be about leaving,
they somehow made staying for a while longer more bearable.
I guess the thing I miss the most would be those old days
since I still walk the quiet streets in the town I never left.
About the Author
Liam Crestwood is a writer from the Wasatch Area in northern Utah. His work has been previously published by Hungry Chimera, IO Lit, and Rosette Maleficarum.
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