Crash Cracked

I’ve been told

time heals all wounds.

Tell that to my living room

who never recovered from

Grandma’s four door Explorer.

It’s not her fault

she mixed vodka

with her spicy enchiladas

dipped in three day old salsa.

I was temporarily blind

and confined to keep

her in a

you know

Grandma state of mind

but she cried and whined

like a snotty tooth child

who wasn’t the first in line

to see the bunny

burst head first

from the black

hat’s silk thread.

The crash cracked

her teeth against

cracked concrete.

Blood spurtled

from her empty sockets

forming little red raindrops

racing down the beige dashboard

down down

to the center of Willie Nelson’s

red head bandana.

Her toes were crinked n’ crackled

and her hip hopped next to her left cheek.

She smelt like a

dusty red chair

marinating in roach repellent.

PapaSam saw her and said 4 words

Give her ten minutes

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