a poem a day for a year #302

by Amy Turn Sharp


We used to get high and go to the demolition derby. We would scream into the air. There we no rules at the county fair. Cars just had to keep banging into each other and even the carnies came round and hung their skinny arms on the fence. We all wished were inside those El Caminos, those junky sedans. Everyone wanted to crash. Burn. Just bust the shit out of something. Just to feel something real. Just take me home while the windows are down and the moon chases us across the Appalachian highway, just take me with you while I'm still young.