we meddled once. sitting
in the front passenger seat
of my car. what are your
rules, mister? soon we’re
in Nashville, hard to know
where to begin. I dropped
my fork to look at an ass.
too many details in each
death. March falls. then it’s
the cleanest day in August.
countless birthdays doom
corporations. it’s my first
shower alone in years and
I can’t write in this car.
