scraping against the road. our tire has just
split open and we’re high off oil fumes
and your dad’s weed. we toss a can of coke
in the back seat and wait to hit a street sign. swerving
off the highway, you whisper in my ear this should
be how we die. with burning and digging
my nails into the steering wheel. watching trucks
horn past us. leaking gas and wandering through rush
hour. red lights shouldn’t exist and neither
should yellow. green can stay but only in chlorophyll—
i just wish everything wasn’t so goddamn bright
all the time. falling from blooming, from almost
becoming. we crushed soda cans over state lines
and waited for everything else to shatter with it.
Kaydance Rice is a writer from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in The Ice Lolly Review, voicemail poems, The Interlochen Review and Full Mood Magazine.