June 12 by Angie JenkinsI don’t remember my eyes
rolling back, forming milky spheres
as the world stopped.
As my world stopped.
I don’t remember falling
from the leather seat
to the Coors stained floor
littered with McDonald’s bags
and gum wrappers.
I don’t remember my pounding chest
colliding with the glove box,
revealing road maps and bucket lists
we needn't have made.
I don’t remember gripping,
indenting,clawing,
clinging tightly, knuckles whitening
as the metal barrier approached.
I don’t remember screaming
splitting the air
as we tightly swerved, playing ping-pong
with the guardrails.
I don’t remember stale booze on your breath
as your bloodshot eyes and
manic speech
beckoned desperately for
adventure.
I don’t remember much of anything
since I met you.
02/04/2010 Posted on 02/05/2010 Copyright © 2025 Angie Jenkins
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Jody Pratt on 01/27/12 at 08:20 PM Powerful, and scary to think about. Reminds me of my sister-in-laws driving (minus the stale booze and cocaine breath.) On that note, isn't cocaine snorted? I'm no expert, but if he's eating it I think he's doing it wrong. |
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