In Public Conversations

Fenders crush and mangle;

glass is thrown like a bad hand

to pavement and thru flesh.

 

Then a dark red rises

on the horizon of a dashboard

Bodies stumble out as

bright colored lights announce,

in hysteria, their tragedy.

 

…And all in the world glance sideways

and drive — to their parking places

but behind are left, doors that will never 

be opened again, and eyes 

that will not close

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