Yes there was the scraping of metal
and the heavy low thunk of the Ford
lilting and tipping no longer bound to gravity
and then dropping with the combined weight
of all of our teenage futures,
but in stories I make it sound like it took so long
when in fact, it didn’t.
The car was turned over in a fraction of a second,
sooner than any of us even had time to think about
and in reality I turned my head
to see my first love,
twisted and hanging,
limp against his seatbelt
his long hair over his face,
and I thought how young he looked.
How young we all are.
How young and bent and over.
Then I crawled on all fours out the busted window
like a sinner
away from the wreckage before anyone could speak.
13 hours ago