The last time I traveled this road
I was a new husband
A new father
Trying to make my way in the world
By first
Making my way to a small factory
In the middle of nowhere
Anxious to take the brown Omega
In a new and different direction
But by perceived necessity
Slowly leaving a rut here
Now
The trees are older
There are a few new houses
Dropped at random in a clearing
The new blacktop
Can barely hide the chatter bumps
Asking me where I've been
And if my dreams came true
As the leaves turn golden
In the rear view mirror
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