POEM

A car engine rattling.

A busted radio preaching the end 

of the world. That soft, hazy sun racing 

behind the horizon, peaking only for the 

thought of crashing. The Earth’s breath, 

hot and fast, blowing the trickled sweat 

from my hairline to my forehead. A swished 

whiskey hits the adrenaline, causing 

a swerve left, then right. The radio speaks, 

“Blazing temperatures bring hysteria!” I turn it 

off without a care in the world and without a 

second to spare.

— Joi Floyd