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.