A Song about your Car

I walked up to the accident
And I chatted up the girl inside
--Mike Doughty
Far across the parking lot from where
the lights flashed is where I stopped
giving stern instructions to stay no matter what
and walked briskly across to find

There had been a phone call on a borrowed cell phone
I'm ok but
you said but when I asked if it was bad
you didn't know

And I left whatever dinner was half made on the stove
trying to be efficient turning down the heat
and business-like so that Hillary wouldn't know
the fraught and fear of this thing

There was a car
wreckage is the only word
that used to be yours
no surface left untouched by asphalt and velocity
the wonder of metal flying headlong and sideways
an explosion of glass
and papers fluttering like broken wings
and a man, a stranger, chasing after them, gathering them one by one
into a neat stack that was the only thing under control

There was a car with a high center of gravity
and visor signs that warned about the possibility of capsizing
about the possibility of overturning

And when the car was struck sidelong, its high center of gravity
realized the possibility of capsizing
the possibility of overturning
everything

And in the back of an open-door ambulance
a pair of feet I think I'd recognize anywhere
and paramedics trying to close them in
almost before I could reach a hand inside
to wrap a hand around
to squeeze a thumb under the arch of
just to know for sure.