bubbling up, up,
over, an avalanche over mountains!
maximizing the minimal-
with everything. With everything gushes out of my mouth over the backseat of the car and my head slaps the mirror and eyes roll over like a dog woofing for a bone: savage things, ******* on the concrete and stepping on cracks.

"Stop looking down little one," mama said, "my back won’t break"-
break/short break/rapid break. You plunge forward at the sign and my eyes drop downs to the side, and Coke falls over the knee.
Droopy eyelids snap open rubber bands:
the world flies around and I’m swatting at it
grabbing at the air like a firefly.

You grip the wheel as you gripped my tongue as I crawl my head between knees: little mountains, remember? Swing over, left foot, right foot, left foot, halt, swing over to the side of the road as hard as the cushions cracked.

Memory is not the same going down as coming up:
the slide of a tongue who’s playing catch up.

The answer was always to bleed but not like this, not with you