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on Spine Road

by Madeleine Parker

I take a right on Spine Road - past empty houses full of lovers and dogs hungry for peanut butter
biscuits, their food bowls still full from last night’s dinner. Fluorescent lights shine through my
sunroof, unblinking – warm – how you used to look at me. With heat: glaring streetlights and
rising sun - your bourbon and spat chew tobacco thick and solid in the air. My sticky legs on
leather-lined seats: peel them off – rip out hair, dead skin – now, how you like them. Hotter and
dissatisfied in dank air. And your shirt – still in the backseat – glowing white beneath the
window, spit stains and salt on the collar. Now my knees are gravel on the shoulder of Spine
Road –

Madeleine Parker is a current BA student at CU Boulder studying Creative Writing and business. She was born and raised in Colorado and loves to spend spare time outside or with her dog, Juniper.

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