We acted like it wasn’t going

to happen, we acted like

I wasn’t going to leave.

We drove in the car down

country roads, we used to look

for houses to buy someday, we

used to look for a spot

to plant our personal utopia and

watch it grow and change and flower.

We pretended we were still

doing that, but we looked more

at the dust that rose in

the distance and blurred into the


Night flowed onto our

canvas, Sycamore didn’t hold

its old magic, it was just

a dusty town with two bars,

a hardware store and a carryout.

Look at me, you said, I

don’t think they can invade

this space and time. I think

if we stare into each other’s eyes

deep enough, we can lock this

moment into forever.

by Cher Bibler