Bleeding OutYesterday in the car, when they asked,
I told them the whole damn myth: how
many years it was before they were
born, how the street was hard denim, the sun up there,
the leaves waving their green hands, and where
the car was when it hit me, and how fast.
I told them how people reported
back about the blood, when I went out
for the second time. I even told them
that you really do feel like everything
is wrong and you know everyone's name
and then nothing.