Looking back there were no secrets, only life
careening on its side, reckless
and innocent, dragging with it
the grass and the gravel, the infant
trees along the embankment. She was

there, saw the birds scatter, felt the burn
of rubber like a great black inhalation. The sky

waited, empty
and flat, but in the kitchen a refrigerator hummed
its disapproval and overhead lights hissed
blue, blue
as though it even mattered. Everyone already

knew – it was in the tarnish, the grit,
those great billowing clouds
of dissimulation. It spurted and choked, unspooled
in the rear-view –

the choice of car,
the shifting of gears,
a heedless destination.






Photo by dbkfrog on flickr