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Crash site

Crinkled up like burnt paper
Shaping orange flames from street lights
The river throws broken glass stars up
From the crash site

Stomachs twisting like fenders
Smashing softly under coats
Wrists and lips twist together
In the moonlight

Free your hands from your gloves
Collapse your white fingers in mine
As we dance, rushing blood
Fingertips fuse into spines

Glances flashing like brake lights
Out of nowhere in the night
No witness as two stumbling victims
Leave the crash site tonight

© 2003 Zubsongs, Ltd.