tightly
a tape rewound slightly with a pinky finger
just one song and
we can get out of the car
he says
"Are you OK?"
I say no
thunder doesn't clap; it echoes
words slicked over, beading
tightly
squeeze my trigger
one more song
ingest, gulp sour, tongue roasting--
trigger happy, trigger sad, all triggers--
I sit in the car, imagine the thunder is him
leaving, talking to himself
the door is ajar
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