i went for a drive today
the rain pitter-patterned as rubber
tires hydroplaned across the concrete and i
pressed play and sang to the mix tape

i couldn't see the moon or the stars or
you. i couldn't see more than 20 ft. in any
given direction. i listened to the cadence
as thunder crashed and thrashed H2O
across my dashboard

and for a moment there the whole
world froze, a hundred million raindrops
posed in suspension and i wondered if
this might be the way that i die—out too late
on a Wednesday night drive—and i thought
if i crashed and burned if the rain would douse
my charred corpse in time to leave a body
for them to put in the ground. would you
fly non-stop to Orlando just to see me lowered
down? what is the dollar
amount that's just too much? could i even say
i'd do the same for you?

then time resumed and rick-rocked me back
to reality and i felt a grim smile tug
me away from the brink as i passed an abandoned
church flooded out in the boonies. lightning flashed
above a lake in the distance and i realized i'd spent
almost 3 years god-free. so why was i
so worried about you?

have i been pulled apart in a 1,000 different directions
criss-crossed like stretch marks
a demon's clawed across my stomach?
i try every day to meet the eyes of
the man in the rear-view mirror but
i can't even remember their color anymore