gleaming in the polished crimson
of a double decker’s front near morning
a split second to distinguish this reflection in the oncoming glass
my bent face,
the evidence of Piccadilly Circus in electric lilac
and cobalt illuminated on the windshield
Coca Cola red blaring off the tint
audible hues in the droning nocturne
of buzz, horn, alarm and again - this discontinued instant
they swim on the glass
streamlined rivers
merging
into a halogen ocean
remnants of the propelling light-footed dash
that drove me just over
the curb
the instability of black heels
slow staccato clicking, and me wavering
in the sway of
petrol exhaust
skidding into the street
eclipsing ‘Look Left'
how is it that all it took for you was the jerk of a wheel
a low eye closed
while I’m caught-breath choking in the trot of a laugh
whirling in the glow of my ninth life
lightheaded but whole at the nearness of destruction?
James With the Coal Gray Coat says
it’s not funny, get back up off the street
but my lips form
you have to laugh
otherwise it’s just too real
to take
I decided then
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