I feel like…
I never should have made
Left Turns.
A quantum particle
at the gates of Hell.
Quinine.
I feel like…
A Bentley Continental GT
steaming down Hennepin Avenue
catching every light.
A piece of chocolate cake
staring down the tines
of a quivering fork.
Sexuality in a blender.
I feel like…
The unraveling hem
of my mother’s skirt.
A ratty old traffic sign
reeling from a load of buckshot.
Gritty pills in a sweaty fist.
1 feel like…
Crying in a filthy cell.
Trespassing on a bed of nails.
Unloading martyred pigs
for Last Rights…
taking another Left Turn.