Post Accident

Bloodstained hair peels back

glass shards at this velocity.

Wind of a

stranger’s comic bubbles

float towards me

as the boxcar finally stops.

I am jet lagged, metal in my mouth,

vertigo knocks on

the noggin and

blue, purple, and pink bruises

make a home for themself

on my charred skin.

Glass paper cuts on hands

sting me as I’m trapped in.

I am still in awe of the number

of patrons that stopped in

for a well being check

as they tow the remnants

under the overpass

and fish me out of the

driver’s seat

as I bob up for air

again.