Acorns shattered my windshield
beyond repair; my mirrors
crackle like pop rocks with the engine on,
deepening each fracture.

Endure, dear Versa,
for I cannot afford to fix you; your headlights
glared halfway across the dock
humming in anticipation.

I planned this; whatever
joy falls after sunset will carry me,
keep my insides safe, until
liquid density pops my ears at the bottom.

My eyes will become marmalade, spread
now across the ocean floor,
opening wide to catch a look at                  
pelicans above fishing for my organs.

Queer theories of man-eating fish
rip past the metal plating,
struggle through narrow gashes
to eviscerate my bloated form.

Underwater is where I will become
volumes more a woman than
what I am now. I will make sure to
Xerox you the results later.

You left me no copilot, my battery at
zero in a watery coffin.

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