The Crash

Flying with hazing lights, glass shattering off the sky bouncing sharply into glistening congreeds. My stomach, weightless, turns knots like a machine forging slur and slush on the long road home as wheels fold in the bathtub waters of west side highway. A missed exit leads me high above skyscrapers, high above everyone, above myself. The road ends. Miles below is a fall from nothing and my weightless stomach flips into a crash to end it all.