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J e n n i f e r   M a r t e l l i


The Range


Some people crave open spaces, the range pulled 

taut as a bed sheet and expectant. I got lost 


driving through a town built on a flatland. 

The world could have ended as it arced 


miles down the highway. I aimed 

straight, all the way to the horizon line. 


If the heat hadn’t rippled and warped 

the road, I could have fallen off the edge clean. 



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