how the license plate reads on their petinaed grey sedan peeling lacquer camped at the top of a dead end street sprung fresh with erect honeysuckle flowers at the bent elbow in Sope Creek and yes, these teenagers are definitely fucking the wind swirls leaves hummingbirds flitting to new flowers thirsty pastel thunder-heads blush lavender they can touch fullness a palpable groan in their hands set each coming spring dogs donning spider webs at the foot of a cherry tree wondering who else is howling who else is making use of the creek.
Madeleine Corley (she/her) is a writer by internal monologue and 1/4th of The Newsledder. Her work has appeared/is forthcoming in FOLIO, HAD, Stoneboat Literary, Olney Magazine, and more. Check her out at madelinksi.com or on Twitter @madelinksi. One day she'd like to own a Mystery Machine.
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