Spectator Sports

Driving steady in traffic watching the car beside me roll

It must be doing gymnastics, a tumble, a backflip, a cloud of smoke

I watch it slide into second and wait for the call

Scratching chalkboards, the wreckage comes to a halt

And there's a puddle by the passenger door, iridescent glow

I can't help but watch as something on the road it starts to match the glowing sunset

The idler wheels are slowing down

The night sky getting darker, a parallel parker, a mushroom cloud

With steady feet on the windshield now dismembered

Sounds like the leaves in mid-November