sometimes, you are riding around with your heart-parts hanging low out of you,
not so unlike the guy on the highway
with his gas tank riding on the asphalt,
throwing back sparks.
maybe even someone well-meaning
pulls up alongside you, like we pulled up next to that guy –
pointing and gesturing:
your HEART ParTS!
abouT To GO bOOM!
still, you think: i know how this machine works –
know every possible sensation —
know when the heat is too high,
the friction too much –
know when to pull over & give those macadam scuffing
valves and atriums, ventricles and the grand aorta
a breath, some time to
the next thing you know:
you are on a highway you
did not mean to be on &
before you can
look the other way you see
someplace your eyes
it’s not always an explosion – i’m pretty sure that
sometimes the bolts just
give way and
hits the pavement
right where you
last meant to leave it
and is gone.