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Driveways are a thing that exist in the townships of South Africa. No one owns a car, but everyone owns a driveway. They think it makes them look rich, or something. Most of these driveways have gates on them, as if to keep people away, but there’s no attached fence, just a gate. It’s very surreal.
By Zhelana on 04.12.2017
Houses have driveways. They are made of concrete. Or Tar. In the old days they tarred someone, by pouring hot tar on them and covering them in feathers. This would kill you, as tar is very hot, and you would melt.
By Bill on 04.12.2017
we wish for you to leave
depart across the asphalt that’s as
gray and flat as your soul
we wish for you to move
on your straight trajectory
like you want us to
and leave us for shaded hours
even though we call you
By anothershadowbox on 04.12.2017
The rusty buick slid into the space. Now, 5 years after, it was a crumbling slab of concrete shot through with sprouting green. On the lower left was a muddy tire track from decades of the pulling up the same way.
By ml on 04.12.2017
She backed out slightly, looking over her shoulder. He had just said something, but she wasn’t paying attention. She cut the wheel and turned into the street.
“Nicole? Did you hear what I said?”
By Bridget Grace on 04.12.2017
driveaway your anger,ego and make the world better.
By gdevanga on 04.12.2017
He stood in the driveway, waiting for the familiar yellow jeep to pull up. It took every ounce of his nerve to write that text, and even more to hit send. The feelings he had were
By Michael on 04.12.2017
She didn’t like to pull into driveways with her lights on. It freaked her out to think that she was freaking other people out, shining her high beams into somebody’s living room just because she needed to turn around. You never knew what people were doing, what privacy you were invading, just because you drove into a dead end. The thing was, it was happening more and more often lately.
By Nick URL on 04.12.2017
“Who’s standing in your driveway?”
No one I knew. She was tall and handsome and dressed in all blue. She wore a big hat all jaunty on her head, and the only different color was on her lips: Dark red. She waved with gloved fingers as I pulled up beside her, a smile revealing the slyness inside her. I asked her, “Excuse me, is there something you need?”
By Belinda Roddie URL on 04.12.2017
She was killed in the driveway. One minute the child was playing with the ball and the next minute she was lifeless, her father bent over the broken body, howling as he tried to put her back together, the engine of the truck still running.
By Mary on 04.12.2017
Park when and where you can. Just shut off your engine and let it rest from where ever you have been. Then you will just BE.
By mark fisher on 04.12.2017
I never learned to park the right way. It was always a foreign idea. My driveway was strange; you could only park in reverse. It didn’t make sense, but that was the reality. So I am a master at parking in reverse, but I’m fucked trying to park like a normal person. I just can’t figure out where the wheels go or how to judge distance or anything…. It’s just not my forté. So you see, officer, that’s why I knocked down that stop sign…
By Brian W URL on 04.12.2017
I sometimes feel like the world has mistaken my skin color for asphalt. People tread on me as ifI were just a driveway at the end of a “dead end” street.
By Mr. Metafizix on 04.12.2017
I HAD AN ACCIDENT ON THE DRIVEWAY YESTERDAY.
By Fahrettin Onder on 04.12.2017
She found him standing at the end of driveway. He looked out of it during the party. She couldn’t blame him. She called his name to no response. As much as she didn’t want to bring up the “you work for me, so answer me” card, time is money an. He engaged her eyes the next time she called his name. He looked distant, arms hanging free at his sides.
“It was an ugly situation, earlier today” she said. “I’m sorry I got us into that… and sorry you had to get us out.”
He didn’t move an inch.
“But this party can be huge for us” she continued. “We need to network. Together”
She began walking back towards the party. He stayed planted and listened to her heels clack on the pavement, then it stopped halfway up. She didn’t want to say “c’mon” and knows he didn’t want to hear it.
By TwoLee on 04.12.2017
I remember this. A cold winter day, everything on the line. The marriage, the child, all of it. I got there before he did; the day was gray and so cold, I wanted to get back in my car and get warm again. The kind of cold that as soon as you open a door or walk into it you want to turn right back around. But I didn’t; I stood there, watching the breath leave me, stomping one foot then the other. Clenching and unclenching my gloved hands, looking up at the a sky dense with clouds and flecks of snow out to start something. I was parked in his driveway; this was where he’d moved after the divorce. Not much to it; a ranch right on the main highway. It needed painting; there was a sign outside that read: Peace to all who enter here. Well not for me, that’s for sure I thought. There’s never been any peace to entering any part of his life, and even less peace leaving it. Took me years to get over it the last time, which clearly I hadn’t because I was standing out here waiting for him all over again. I was early; always was when I was meeting him. I looked at my white car, parked there in a place where it didn’t belong, an innocent bystander in this whole thing. It looked like a large chunk of dirt, it was so dirty compared to the snow that was all around. Finally, here he came, slowing down at his own driveway, pulling in, stopping. I stared at his car, tried to get a better look at him in the car. My eyes adjusted and there he was. I hadn’t seen him in years. He was waving, waving, waving, almost annoyed and I couldn’t think what was wrong. I hadn’t seen him in such a long time and already he was pissed about something. Then I realized, he couldn’t get into the driveway because my car was too close to the street. His wave meant, move the car, move the car. I did
Finally he got out. And that’s when I thought: That’s what I should have done years ago. I couldn’t.
By rubyluby on 04.12.2017
“they pull up in their
carrages and gawk at
the students and the –?
to watch them talk
take Phillip Schuyler
the man is loaded
uh-oh but little
does he know
that his daughters
sneak into the
just to watch all the
-Leslie Odom Jr.
“The Schuyler Sisters
(I got a little carried away, this isn’t my work!!)
By Pandyfish on 04.12.2017
I sat the staring at the car
it sits in the driveway but still so far
the person is gone slumped in the sit
By Robbie on 04.12.2017
Cześć wszystkim. Chciałem tylko zgłosić że
strona co jakiś czas nie działa…
By jak zainwestować 5000 URL on 04.12.2017
don’t make it stop
but you splash
in the driveway
like it never
By sarahjulianna on 04.12.2017
i parked my car in the driveway
like a rocket on a launching pad
’72 Dodge Charger
Shiny black, polished every week
oh so fast, oh so sleek
one day started to leave
my dad said stop
you need to wait
I have to go, I’m going to be late
I hustled out the door
there to my dismay
a tree fallen across my car
took my breath away
my baby! My machine!
Such a horrific scene!
By alasthepoetwarrior on 04.12.2017
I learned that a driveway is what you park on and a parkway is what you drive on. So on the driveway you will find parked cars. Speaking of cars, my boyfriend got a new one. It’s beautiful. Maybe one day I will see it sitting on a driveway.
By nikita on 04.12.2017
she drove the car thru him, leaving him writhing in agony at the driveway
By reverieve on 04.13.2017
I didn’t let you enter past the kitchen. It was so much smaller than yours, though, so it was as if you’d already invaded the whole house.
This was business, final business, a transaction then a clean break. But then again, we never saw eye to eye.
I handed over the last of what was yours. But then again, we never saw eye to eye.
Thinking there was still something left that must have been meant for you, you took its hand. Her hand. My hand.
We stood outside my little white house, looming unimpressive, and leaned against your car. That Bonneville knew this area well, from when I was too afraid to drive on the highway and you drove double the distance to retrieve me. Or when I overslept, and you waited over an hour until I looked out the window in a panic, paving the road to your place with apologies. I had hoped you were late too, but you hardly ever were. Then.
Eyes averted, you try to parse this out, to find something to hold on to. You explained a loneliness and isolation I already knew about. To be honest, if you hadn’t cared about your mistakes, I wouldn’t have, either. It is because something as insignificant as her fingers crawling over yours became so important to you that it became important to me, too. It was what had followed that incident that hurt me. The way you described both of us as if we were equal. You ruined your own leverage—my belief I was special to you.
You tell me you haven’t talked to her in weeks. You tell me this months later, so months of distance and an entire human being are between us. You ask, as if you had a right—‘do you still love me?’
I don’t know how to answer except, ‘that isn’t fair. You don’t get to leave and then ask that.’
You insist you just have to know.
Did I ever? Frustration takes over and I mumble, ‘no.’
You were too late for something, after all.
A pause and one last reach—an offer for lunch—and I repeat myself. A word that hardly rears its face in my vocabulary, but Flight was taking over.
A year and a half later, outside a difference house. Same arms pressing me close one last time.
My face red and contorted, the past half hour in my head.
There was so much more to pick up and pack away this time. Books, extra clothes, little tokens scattered about your room. You started throwing everything in a shoebox, because you left me paralyzed on the bed.
The last words of our relationship still ringing in my skull.
‘Fuck you,’ whispered gently in my ear, followed by a soft touch of lips on my cheek.
The harshest words you’d ever said reserved for last; you weren’t one to send verbal poisoned darts. Maybe because you knew I was going too far away for them to reach.
You take me out the front door instead of the back, a true Walk of Shame in front of your curious roommates.
This time we stand by my car. I drive the half hour here, now.
Turns out I never needed to be taken care of.
I pull away, seeing your house recede for the last time. I know the streets well enough to navigate with impaired visibility.
I couldn’t answer ‘no’ this time, even if ‘yes’ still isn’t enough.
But I’d also come to love the highway, so I could scream the whole way home.
By Ai URL on 04.13.2017
I was driving away home today and in my heart there was dissatisfaction! The dissatisfaction of no good work, no paying attention to family & still continuing with the job-is money worth it??
By jyotsna URL on 04.13.2017
Anne was innocent
Pretty, Young and Beautifll Lad
She was of very Jolly spirit
One day when Bette, started driving his car for the first time
Bette rode the car over Anne
The driveway was full of Anne and Anne
By Princess on 04.13.2017
They crawl across the dark living room wall,
as if to be a gentle, almost ghostly warning shot
that the hard conversation,
the one that can’t be avoided,
is about to explode
as soon as he parks.
The only thing standing in the way
is a sullen walk up the driveway.
By NuSol URL on 04.13.2017
The blue sedan pulled out of the driveway. It suddenly stopped and once again lurched forward. Iynh watched on as it continued down the street. She smiled and shook her head.
By M4sterM1nd on 04.13.2017
Iynh hated driveways. They reminded her too much of her own life. Cars, like people,coming for whatever reason only to leave. They all do. Eventually.
It’s the first real night of Spring. I know this because I can hear the chorus of frogs, all calling out for some celebratory company and competing against a thousand different voices, each hoping to pass the season with an admirer.
It’s been hours. I don’t know that because of the miles we walked tonight, or the dirt that covers my jacket from the culvert we crept through in hope that some adventure that make the night even longer awaited on the other side, but because I’ve lost track of Orion in the night sky while we stand and talk in front of my house.
It’s August. I know because in the hours we’ve been standing here, staring at the sky and being swept away by an ever flowing stream of conversation, I’ve seen a few Perseids escape across the night sky.
It’s over now. I know because I feel every minute pass when you’re not there. The chorus of frogs turns into a cacophony of unfulfilled voices screaming for company. I know because I never lose track of Orion.
I know, because without you there, my driveway is just a half-empty space where I leave my car.
By mistyfizz on 04.13.2017
“Can concrete mold?” This was on his mind as a volcano of disgust erupted from his gut. He hated his neighbors so much that he would create fictitious science just to damn them with it.
By ml on 04.13.2017
the driveway in which the vehicles of our mind’s synapses
in a meadow,
endless, constellation of possibility.
This very electric voltage vehicle can transmit us
into the calm waters of Naples, a water route driveway that brings sheen.
As we close our eyes, as we delve into the deepest pits of our imaginations,
a harpsichord plays a melodically hypnotizing tune,
and after the chorus and the symphony,
practice at the same time,
at the same sheen setting,
music begins to create a reality,
versuses are no longer metaphysical therapy.
If you want bottles of patron,
models lounging on your couch, i mean throne,
the eye lids open access to any GPS when
altitude disagrees with gravity,
pull out the brain’s vehicle,
of the driveway listed under gravity,
the acceleration of the pedals
pushed down at the pace chosen;
a jump shot can be perfected in a day,
ask demar derozan. His foot on was the gas pedal,
no delay, NBA draft pick in the same day.
The car lot is yours, choose your vehicle.
By milad URL on 04.13.2017
I love sitting in the driveway when I was a teenager in the car. I would sit in the car and take an afternoon nap after I got home from school. That was the best feeling ever. To be in my very own car and a sunny but perfect weather day to nap in the driveway.
By email@example.com on 04.13.2017
Iynh felt utterly alone. She watched as the black sedan got farther and farther away.
Iynh stayed there for a while contemplating if her pride was really worth severing ties with companions.
I went into the driveway to go pick up some sticks and clean it up.
then I was done and then I took a break and had a drink.
By joanna URL on 04.13.2017
He stood at the bottom of the driveway waiting for the sun to set. His father always talked about the setting sun as some omen or sign of the end of the world, but he never believed him till that sunset when the bombs went off.
By Kim on 04.13.2017
I park my car in the driveway. One time we cut down a tree and it fell on the driveway and it made a bunch of cracks. Fireants and weeds live in those cracks now.
My cat awaits me at the end of the driveway when I come home. My husbands car, the Bonneville, is at the end.
By fawn on 04.13.2017
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.