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[Pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/search/edge%20of%20town/)
Here, where the last porch light
gives the dark capitulations,
where asphalt passes
to gravel, then soil, next stars.
The concluding gas station glows
like a ship on the water
of corn and possibilities,
Its neon promise flickering.
We introduce here
our most fundamental questions,
our littlest aspirations,
our shattered hearts for mend.
Tracks cross train
Like silver wounds,
Toting others' dreams
towards places we only dream.
The kids are acquainted with this spot—
windows closed, music volume up,
At Seventeen: Sensing Infinite
at the bounds of everything.
The corroded burial ground is here.
one foot in the known world,
one in the enigma beyond,
picking home by remaining.
The horizon hides its secrets.
like a clinched hand,
Behind us still,
Streetlights show the way back.
At the margins of the city,
Departing is only a direction.
but coming back.
Coming back is a decision we make.
The darkness ahead murmurs
Of horizons and roadways,
Though the lights behind us
spell out safety, certainty, sleep.
Certain nights we cross this boundary.
between remaining and leaving,
between us who we are
and who we could develop into.
The edge of the community:
where the potential starts
and the well-known
learns to let go.