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.