What happened was
I was driving home and
my spine came unglued.
I pulled to the side
clung to my skeleton.
The mirror I was protecting
cracked
beneath a bony knuckle.
What happened was death
followed me from the party.
I tried to lose it but
the limousine just stretched.
I piled a siren on the night
called up the engine and
leaned into the next world.
What happened was fire
under the hood. Angels like devils
fanned it with their wings.
I was trying to explain to the cop
the alcohol in cough syrup.
I even coughed for him.
What happened was the stars
swirled up into a saucer of milk;
the trees melted together
and I was young. The road curved
like a woman; she pointed a finger
curled it back to her palm.
Another eye was opened and
I poked it with an olive skewer.
What happened was I grew old
hunched over the steering column
clinging to life's headlights.
The road curved up
my neck fell apart.
The edge was for sale
and I broke like glass.
©CopyrightCactus May