spare

i once used a beach ball 
for a spare tire. i used a diamond ring
& a ferris wheel & a single baby tooth.
you can mae due with anything if necessary.
it is important to be imaginative 
when it comes to your own disasters.
on the side of the road with a flat tire 
i pictured the rest of the world in flames.
i told you we were on our way 
to hell. you told me you thought
we were just going to the supermarket.
the supermarket is a kind of hell.
the car wasn't a car but the carcass
of a small whale. i told you 
water had left the earth & now 
we have to drink sugar. i used to have
a spare tire in the trunk. it waited
coiled like a snake or no maybe
it really was a snake & it slipped out 
of one of the cracks in the floor of the car.
somewhere there is a snake 
who could have saved us. salvation 
is really a matter of preparation.
this is why i sometimes try to believe 
in god. i pray for a miracle. for a new car 
made entirely of glass. indestructable.
i pray for you to hear my thoughts
because it would be easier to love me 
if you did. i don't want to hear 
your thoughts though. i would give anything
to be a favorite person. i eat
a handful of grass. the ocean is rising
but i still can't see it from my window.
i could use a necklace as a spare tire 
or maybe even a thumb. the car is 
an extension of the body's sadness.
wants to drive us into the scortched earth.
if lightning strikes a car while you're inside
you need to wait to be let out. i learned that
in high school. i pray my car will be struck 
by lightning & i hear the voice of god say
no you can't pray for that. we will 
get home somehow. i have a jam jar 
that i coax you into. shut the lid.
roll to towards the apartment. the apartment
is invisibly on fire. is secretly 
a supermarket. is just 
over the next hill. is in walking distance
from all this awful. i ask the sun
if it would consider a brief life
as a wheel. the day fizzles out 
& i ask the moon who is always game
for transformation. only a crescent.
a bumpy ride. the car limps across
highway after highway. i ask you
where you want to go & then i remember
i jarred you up & sent you away.
miles later i discover your jar.
i open it to find a violet
spool of yard. i wrap myself up in you.
tangled. a mess. all the spiders 
sense a struggle. where are you 
taking me? the spare tire snake
skirts into the sky where there was
once the moon.