Those nights on the porch
The lightning bugs
The frogs
The plastic Family Dollar chair that’s been passed down for generations
That look in her eyes
I don’t even remember if we talked
The silence was prevalent
The smoke from her cigarette floated off
She’s a teenager
I’m a little kid
I waller on the old wooden couch rocker
I pet my dogs
I hope she changes the world
Everybody’s wrong about her
But she ran away instead
I sit in the backseat
It’s dark
I transport to a midnight porch-sit
The bright yellow light, the old farmhouses siding
Then I hear
The muffled banter of threats, tears, confusion
I worry but I hope she escapes
They’re wrong about her
They always were