My chronology collapses on the floor
when it gets shoved off my desk,
tea leaves could make sense of this
if only i would sip the sips.
Rob swats at me with a butterfly net
but I told him I must migrate
and get lost in my own sidecar
without a destiny or driver.
This inadvertent girl doesn't
respect parallel parking spaces
and forgets to care about clocks
in the middle of weddings, work.
I would headbutt adulthood if it
meant I could stay in the backseat
of the chevrolet, swallowing wind
and negotiating innocence.
copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez
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