The lanes were strewn with mud
and spattered in fury,
a flurry of blood. Home
he could not reach, in his hurricane
Land Rover he was lost;
lost in the bitten blue
of a windshield blown
with shrieking and sinew.

Only his lover laid a hand
on his arm, softening
the steering, breathing out calm. Sighing
she spoke, voiced a lie
of the night; to which he hissed
and laughed
and callously cried.

Suddenly shouts
shot through the gloom, the shaky
seats, the engine vroom;
flashed out
in streets slithered
with rain, she saw
the point, the place again

and touched the cracks
that marred his face, and felt
the heat of his disgrace. Sirens
melting reality. Wait,
wait, wait for me.