Plainsong

_ A windshield doesn’t care about the sun,
but it will come. And it will smear

across my rearview mirror when it does,
but I’m not done. If I’m unluckily

alive then, I will drive my four-door
suicide past every pleading traffic

sign, through every red light, yellow
line and guardrail clinging to a cliff-side

I can find until my front seat catches
fire from the sparks between my shredded

tires or my engine opens in explosion
I am tired god if you’re not

good enough to kill me let me die


--MALACHI BLACK