sign says
trespassers will be prosecuted
in the blackness
two-track tryst

trees stand frozen
caught in the high beams
we are drunk on mischief
our stomachs tickled
by ups and downs
on the uneven path of adolescence
frightened to death

of being exposed

not fitting in

the hook wielding killer in the woods

we scream
scaring the deer
that has crossed
and scampered off into the night

this is not our road
to travel on
this is a mistake

one of many we’ll make

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