cat leaves a lasting impression on
windowsill. the wind steals into
the room through the screen. not
enough to cool my sweat. the motion
of the cars outside is static. an accident
leaves a man groaning on the sidewalk.
a woman asks did you see?
it was a bumper, he looked plastic. he
was dying. if I’d seen it move then maybe.
a body leaves an impression in the
grass. cars continue crunching fragments
of glass. the impression is his last
breath. the intake is exhaust.
It’s all plastic… until it’s us. – mh clay