23.
Call it in the air.
Let something be misplaced.
Released elsewhere, a vapor,
ungathered steam.
A car rolls, flips into the air
and gyrates at tremendous speed.
We are amazed when we see the driver crawl
Swimming graceless across glistening asphalt
to safety, a refuse-strewn shoulder.
We choose these careful words.
Always it’s hardest to pry
open the ragged edges,
well-guarded seams between selves.
We jiggle a little ovation of keys,
entering independently some homes
tidy and unrecognizable in
a game of numbing skin, the body
afloat, unknown to itself.
