Crash

home tastes like

coffee creamer

with a side of

ninety degree humidity

that curdles my sanity

it sounds like

being seventeen

thinking

I can take a right on red

skidding into

another car

the cop asking me

”are you high?”

I think I might have smiled at that

I just wanted a salad

officer

the fewer calories

the better

emptiness

served up cold

the better

to survive

being someone

I loathe