As the seats fill up behind me
A familiar prickling
Climbs its way behind my ears
Vines with cracked shells
Coughing up the last vestiges
Of salt water
Nostalgia for the moment before birth
That strangling itch
Where your arms are locked
And kept from scratching
Holding your breath
For fear of knocking the dominos over
One by one
Stolen steel pilgrims flash the streets
Exposing their gears and wires
While your car gets a *******
Oil dripping from the exhaust
Windows sweating
Horns crying out into the night
Closing their eyes
With their hands smothering their faces
Holding their breath
And hoping they die before the crash