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We are speeding through Georgia, your hand
between my legs in an orange VW Rabbit.
I am ashamed of the car and nothing else.
A black snake swims in the mirage of steam
over the tar road . If I let go my body
will plummet, so I am shifting in the seat
trying to hold onto your hand, to all of it.
My fingers are in your hair, we are
suspended like taht when the frogs in the swamp
start their murderous squeals. I am mud.
I am lifting out of the car, the smell of pulp
from the mill like the smell of roaches all around us
and yet, I inhale, and lift, and hold the dashboard
like I am in a skiff, rising against the river.
Snake of my spine shimmers, splits the bones.
I loved you for that. For my dissolution, for my slither.