The man took the wrong fork in the road.
It was out in the country. They saw
no signs. It was getting dark. They began
to blame each other. Should they keep
going straight or should they turn around?
They drove past farms without lights.
The man said, If we reach a crossroad,
we can just turn right. His wife said,
I think you should turn around. The man
was driving. They kept going straight.
There’s got to be a road up here someplace,
he said. His wife didn’t answer. By now
it was pitch black. In their lights, the trees,
pressing close to the road, looked like people
wanting to speak, but thinking better of it.
The farther they drove, the farther they got
from one another, until it seemed they sat
in two separate cars. Who’s this person
next to me? This thought came to them both.
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