february 4th

I found the letter you wrote me

In the smoking wreck of my car

On the side of 95.

There was a light rain

And I was reaching around because 

No one knows what to do

When that happens.

I heard the sound

Before it almost collapsed to a point

And the front tin of the hood

Scrunched up like an accordian

Whose notes can kill you

If they go too long.

It didn’t.

You wrote that you would fight for us.

I didn’t have a proper jacket.

I was 3 hours away in white plains

But still, I wanted to curl in a ball

And feel the breeze on my back,

Let the rough voice of that towtruck

Mumble into nothing.