Layers of static hang
like fogged up window panes
And everything I’m about to say,
teetering, treacherous, between my teeth,
I find myself haunting these in-betweens,
lingering in the details in the background and
I want the calamity of the rigmarole,
the mercurial fervor I remember from
once or twice before.
Let’s steal a car and get lost in the backseat.