Pulling away, leaving behind
the memories, the love, the warmth, my mind

Picking up speed, escaping the past
the worries, the pain, the anguish, outcast

Accelerating, visions are beginning to blur
inside, screaming, twisting, longing for her

Speeding, the machine, vibrating it shakes
it might just be me, do I have what it takes

Fighting to hold on, I am hitting the bend
excitement, release, approaching the end

Sliding, screaching, tyres trying to hold
an instant of noise, pain, it's getting so cold

No longer the senses, no sight, smell or touch
although floating away, I remember so much

will I find her again, will she recognise me
did I do the right thing, will I finally be free

The train huffs and bellows;
Screeching tracks sparking
Waves of rolling roaring
Like stretched thunder,
Booming in rapid motion.

Above, a plane traces an arc
Of breathy fury, compressed
And exploding voraciously.
It erupts in ignited screams
Across the moon-lit sky.

Always, too, the forever pops
And sliding-low gurgling of cars
And trucks and motorbikes, vague
Ticks of missing-beats, sparse
Rumbles of howling engines and

Flashing sirens piercing
Continuous above it all.
A cat (probably) somewhere
Screams nearby.

All returns to normal.

el trauma de mi vida es
el carnet de coche.
¿os sonará mucho esa frase, verdad?

cuantas mas veces lo intente,
mas veces recaigo
en la monotonía del fracaso.

no sirvo no sirvo
no sirvo no sirvo

The woman singing
With the car radio
Knows half the words.

A customer grabs,
With a shirt-protected hand,
Goodwill's door handle.

The boy in the womb
Is already attending
DUI classes.

Car with a driver

waiting for me, it is just --


too big to be parked.

it took a few months to recognize my first car.
i’d wander through parking lots reading license plates
as if they were names i should know, but forgot.
i just looked for the college parking pass to show it was my own.
i graduated two years ago.
i still looked for the parking pass last month.

it took a few months to recognize my keys.
they didn’t feel like mine for months;
i was used to touching doors with the reticence of a guest.
i couldn’t tell which unlocked what,
i just looked for the college logo lanyard.
the red fabric may have unlocked as much as the keys did.

it’s taking more than a few months to move on.
i’m still in therapy for the therapy i didn’t ask for
when people couldn’t tell the difference
between the will to live and the will to die.
the keys on my lanyard led to doors that weren’t mine anymore.
none of the other cars there had to leave.
the parking pass laughed as i drove away.

it took a few weeks for the airbags to stop ringing in my ears.
i didn’t hear the sirens until i saw the lights,
kind of like the way i didn’t feel myself being pushed
until the door was shut. i didn’t know what to reach for—
i would have held the steering wheel tighter.
i would have looked a little longer.
i would have watched what they did and not what they said.

it takes longer when i’m in the driver’s seat now.
words need more salt. i take roads more slowly.
the car that was my home through shut and locked doors
was my safety one last time.
i have new keys. i have new doors.
a home where i’m not a guest.
i walked from both crashes, but only one still haunts.
the parking pass was towed away, and i wish i had laughed.