• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 10

Don’t Name Your Ride

I love car crash videos
In real life, real people die. I try not to think about this.
You can feel a crash from a mile away, whispering engines
Impatient on the highways, chemical reactions
Make people go lightspeed. Then crash.

I turn like The Excorcist to look at the crumpled metal
Fetish objects splayed out across the road
Rusted underbelly, deserted, metal entrails, vomited awful
Trucks drunk at Texaco, cowboys robbing drugstores
Don't name their rides, they get too attached
Before fucking it off with a brick on the pedal because
Everything has their own ditch to cry in, find yours
And quietly let the world rip you to shreds.

When people die on the internet, they get "rekt"
And when they die in real life, they die
And they are unceremoniously scraped off the asphalt
Where they will be put in a ziploc bag and reunited
Someplace else. Then the carcasses of automobiles are inspected
For dental braces superimposed on glovebox, a wedding ring melted into the cup holder
And a carpool karaoke blitz'd. On the ground, what they called the Ice Blue Nintendo DS Lite
(A Black Friday bundle exclusive)
Is still singing some voice clip, modulated,
I bet it was hilarious at the time.


Don’t Name Your Ride

I put these memories away in a folder in my mind, a totem pole of dead things
And my dreams dance around it on the dream beaches you can't drive on
And I make fine art out of the junkyard, as a child's mind does
And on Jupiter, a new star for every vehicular manslaughter, automobile accident, road rage gone wrong

Come along to my website, I have captured people dying,
And dashcam'd the bonnet that becomes knives
Which becomes pixels
Which becomes paint in dreams.
My brain collects damage
And debris, then I fix it and exhibit.
5 Cars, White, Blue, Black, Pink, Red.
In Varying Sizes, 2023.