you are not unlike any other of the eternally salvaged materials/ a fluid moment in the snow/ the headlights beckoning/ perhaps there will be food tonight/ your belly growls with the teeth of it, and you hope he won’t want to fuck you/ the wreckage is adrift upon the hills among the tall oaks/ with their thick unfinished arms just now waking from the sleeping of oblivion/ the inside of the car smelled rich with leather/