1. Blame it on me. My lovers have related
the way I fall to a highway since the day I
put shaking hands on a wheel, they’d say I’m 120,
over-feeling, road rash on unpaved emotions,
I could burn out an unlit flame,
I could soak your body through,
so I can take it, I will take it,
let me lift this weight off our hips.
2. Compare us to collision. Bad
timing at a broad intersection, all melting
metal and soft hands, broken glass, and
hearts, and knees, kissing the ground in
collapse, and twisted doors between arms
of the corner’s tree sound a lot like
it is time for us to turn the page,
a lot like it is not our right to scream
each other’s name in eye contact
even though the wreckage took our voices
away, a lot like this shouldn’t have ever
happened in the first place, move
away before we reach for another and can.
3. Let me lie in the hospital and
do not come to visit, do not call. I will
cope by drug-dreams of you holding me,
will wake after you leave and call it easy.
3. This is the way it has to be and I
will not take it from you. I will take it
for you, just let me. Do not trick
yourself into thinking this crash-course
of our bodies could ever roll into
something like artwork— back.
3. Trick yourself into thinking this
could never be an airbag kind of love.
Trick yourself into thinking we are nothing