where the sun sets

One car, red car,

black car, new car,

A sea of light blue

Priuses.

During month one I couldn’t eat,

month two I avoided your street.

The freeway during month three.

Month four, I wished there was no “we.”

Shitty drivers you guys are,

I fight the urge to play bumper cars.

I avoid license plates,

7ALBO82 a heavy weight.

Your heart has 400 miles,  

I filled you with gas every week.

Wasting money and love,

you’d empty your heart and passenger seat.

You are the 405 at rush hour,

tiresome, menacing, a chore.

With no space to merge, no getting through,

I’d still sit in stand-still traffic for you.

I am forever an airbag,

direct the pain to me. Get hurt vs.

be hurt, a curse and a plague.

My airbag didn’t inflate.

I crashed my car.