Now I Know How to Get an Interstate Named After Us

Wanna try

flattening the cramps out of our feet

against the dashboard?

This is how that girl died.

After her boyfriend’s car was hit,

the bones in her leg were driven back

and punctured her chest.

Someone stuck a Jolly Rancher to my car window.

When you pulled it off, the glass shattered like her ribcage.

I have to remind myself that my body is not a road.

Did it hurt?

Maybe.

We’re ok,

leaning my head out the window.

I try not to mind the smoke.

Was her boyfriend ok?

Last night I had a dream that your hands left tire tracks on my body.

Nah, he got put in the ICU;

died a week later.

There is a memorial in front of the school with their pictures.

They chose not to use the last one taken of him:

eyes taped shut,

tubes connecting him like freeways,

sister watching him in backround,

her mouth open—