We drove
past farm stands lining the shoulder
leaving dust stirred by our wheels
to settle over the baskets
heaped with lettuce.
The pull-off
was marked with the pattern
of tractor tires that followed
the meandering outline
of young corn rows.
A wall
of layered rock
met the creek bed on one side,
smoothed from years of the water's
tender lapping.
We lowered
our bodies and tried
to seek bottom in the dark
sinking deep to find nothing
and losing breath.
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