Cruising

We used to be one.
One heart, one mind, one spirit,
one breath, one flesh.
You tore mine off the bone,
fed it to rotting dogs & moaned.
Now it doesn’t matter which road—
Owen, Yadkin, Reilly, Bragg.
They all reek of you.
The unbearable stench of mildew,
semen, sweat trapped in hair,
days-old chow mein, thrift store bras,
spit & urine on threadbare carpet,
dust clinging to thick curtains
over windows lit by sickly neon.
That is your smell.
I can’t fucking stand it.
I punch the gas, hoping to run one over.
I crank the music loud, hoping to drown
in my anger and somehow be reborn
a deity who feels none of this torment.
But the pain follows me everywhere
like an unwanted child
strapped in the back seat
and, without the merciful blessing
of a major vehicular accident,
I make it home &
crawl into my bed.