in the bag

he's imagining

riding hard

on interstate 80

while she's

hurling lipstick

in a Thank You

We Appreciate

Your Patronage

torn beige sack

with the passenger

window but half

rolled down and

a long slim

rip running up

nude stockings

where they'd

failed

fumbling

roughly

to come to

between uppers

and downers

shaken and mixed

all wrong in the

blood and white

flashing cop'per

flood lights

pissing out

a sound

like a tire

incomparable

to the shrieking

brakes and glass

and her clawing

at his sorry arse

I hate you.

I hate you.

they gasp...

into the bag.

07.31.2023

CotW CCXXXIII Short Brutal Drunken Regret @Prose