Asphalt and Peaches (Old Poetry)

She let her first kiss tumble
from the windows of her father’s jeep
as the car hurtled over the tennessee line
the fissures in her face were smooth
as she watched the kiss pummeled by oncoming traffic
swept under angry semis and bearded motorcycle men

her kiss became trash, tucked away
inside a splintered McDonalds cup
wishing it were rough like teeth and asphalt
soft like peaches, dirt and throats.

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