-- this I could never say.
My dad believed in the good book
and psychology books and the $5.95 books
and he believed in dirt roads because
unlike Tennessee roads they were there.
I practiced driving his truck
because that's what 13 year old boys do
on abandoned mine roads.
That stick shift with its glossy red paint
job and grey plastic trim around the wheel-wells
stalled on every hill and each flat ground.
The side roads were the worst:
smaller, steeper -- gravel big enough to jar.
I don't know why we drove the tributaries.
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