Traffic Circles · The Art of Poetry

Traffic Circles

The devil planted me in New Jersey, of all places

Nothing triggers homesickness much like

The smell of gasoline and the melted tin foil

Of a breakfast sandwich

And what if I could navigate traffic circles forever,

Dizzying and people yelling

And what if my mother had loved me more

Maybe then I wouldn’t have left..

There’s no telling.

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Traffic Circles

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