pocket metal.

a girl at puts a quarter into the cold silver mouth

of a payphone as the sky goes

dark. on the other side

of the line, a boy listens to her panic, her heavy breathing, a car

skids off the highway, into the empty

rear parking lot. her blood pools

to her feet, she looks down, sees her own hands, shaking

i am afraid. he says:

i will call the cops. the door opens behind her

boots crunch gravel like a meal in the mouth

of a hungry man. she prays into the dark,

into the aether, to heaven, please don't

let me die.

the voice is rough, and not young. not like she is-hey baby

get in the car. let's go for a ride. and she knows

what it means, knows a monster when she meets one-

to his friend, the monster mouth says go

get her. she prays. please. and the boots

are closer and the rocks are so loose, the rocks

are quicksand, the night is new-moon

dark. close your eyes. i am already

sure this is the end. the sound stops, this

half-second split into a million aeons; close

your eyes. the gravel mouth stops, speaks

low, sucks his breath- what the fuck

is that. the boy on the phone questions her radio, says what

happened? can you hear me? someone is speaking, screaming what

the fuck. the voice is impossible to know- the man in the gravel

or the man in the grave. it isn't me, it isn't me. i promise-

i won't open my eyes. the other man screams,

get in the car. someone is still yelling

what the fuck. and holy shit. and

oh my god. holy shit and oh- my

eyes were closed the whole time.