If I told you about when
I tried to flip my car
at three in the mourning
in a field that would
be an accommodating
burial ground
(which was all too ironic)
I think maybe
grass would grow faster
or just turn yellow
like it always does.
If I told you about
the time I lay face down
in a rain puddle
on my old playground
where I once
was pushed to the concrete
by a sad and angry boy,
I’d be left to think
that maybe I’ve taken his place
and kicked my own self
to the black pavement
laughing into
a ***** water pool
breathing in hilarious defeat.
If I told you about
when I climbed my roof alone
and smoked my first cigarette
jolly and wild and new..
I can’t help but think now
that I was low and not high.
I stumbled back into the warmth
of my room
dizzy off of this new sickness
that is no longer new
and is quite yellowing and calloused
on my fingers.
If I told you about
the first time I drove at night
sad and angry like the boy and me,
I think that I would chuckle
at how
I tried to flip the car over
so many years ago
quite halfheartedly
and how I am the same always
in the most laughable way