but my heart didn’t come with an owner’s manual.
words are like triggered airbags that will only break
my neck, and if i sail through the windshield clear
of the wreck i’d be lucky. something you can’t look
away from no matter how hard you try. over the
squeal of the brakes i thought i heard you say we’re
going straight to hell for that hit-and-run. splayed
out in the middle of the road, a stray ventricle,
a bleeding intention.