The tree in the middle of nowhere,
where they met as children,
she in a white dress,
he in a striped shirt,
will be my place,
in the end,
I knew I would likely die on a Tuesday,
above the wraparound porch,
and they would walk me,
like the Dark Parade I'd read about so many times,
to the tree,
to my tree,
and then it wouldn't be the middle of nowhere,
at least not to me
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