Our Last Day Together

Mom and I were going to leave for the suburbs.

I knew. My cousins didn't.

Leah and Logan skipped school that day.

  I partially convinced Leah. Logan was indifferent.

They hid from the bus.

We played at the park

(we hopped the fence

  that bordered the ditch).

We raided my uncle's place of food

  put it in backpacks and ate on the go.

We ventured everywhere,

  even outside the trailer park.

I was eleven years old

  (Leah 10, and Logan 6).

That night we drove

to a small Greyhound station.

I then left with Mom. 

I had escaped that dead place.

This poem is about: 
My family

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