I drove today, down black and yellow
snakes, houses lined the banks
of the concrete river the snake
slithered into,
children played and parents watched,
I was revving and gunning and lost,
not on the streets, in sheets that smelled like someone
far behind me, in eye water and lilacs,
or two lips,
Then I parked the car,
shut the door,
and fell to a puddle on my
bedroom floor,
I am great, I am hollow,
I am wretched, I am hollow,
Let me evaporate
Let me evaporate,
please,
Let me evaporate