sitting in a car smashed to pieces

reality rear-ended me today. in the kind of hard that goes BOOM and then your eyes flash to a rearview mirror, focusing on near-death certainty coming right at you.

broken pieces of bumpers and gnarled hoods. screams from children. a woman shouting, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” A guilty man with the face of defeated ignorance.

Every crash begins by accident.

my first reaction was call you. but then i realized last week you made a decision not to care how i’m gonna die.

plastic, reality-perforated sculptures of brake lights look a lot like my heart.

o, how i wanted more in my tomorrow.

flashing cop lights steal some of the sunset’s magic. the chief ushered me to an ambulance, but i pressed a soft “no” into his arm.

“there’s no one to get my son; i’ll live through my injuries.”

a day off from work. eyes too swollen to shut. a fear of finding sleep marred by memory. a new fear wearing the phobia of movement.

your absence mortalizes midnight.



One thought on “sitting in a car smashed to pieces

  1. So open and courageous your writing, as ever, I want to get over, buy you coffee and assure myself you’re alright.
    I send you love and best wishes and hope, because I can’t get over, so all I can do is hope you’re ok, my gutsy friend

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