I COULD SMELL IT

WAY LOW on I55

HAIRS RAISED as tempest climbed the ladder of irony

running seventy miles per hour in a 40,000lb metal casket

...sweat perfumed air in form of beads not yet trickling

pheromones of masculinity ebbing in low tide across furrowed brow

and slow sexual scent permeating air as urine withheld from its final release at impact.

Auditory evaluation gave not a developing detail but held on repeat, the screech, skreel... screech, skreel and crash of what could be thunder along pavement.

Eyes did not check depth of matter what would impale... indent and smear the last phase of life rejected from the detail of safety...

SAFETY FIRST

the bitter taste of safety which was not the matter for his day...

last day on earth.

by Gina (for Wayne&Tracey) 5/10/2023