to have our cars collide
in a moment of numbingly-slow, time-bent
surrealist bliss, cacophonic
shudder, snap of
bone-break

or to slowly
slip beneath the surface
of the world
and reach not
top nor bottom
but hover in a state of
non-existance. or else

run barefoot, bloodied toes searing, crackling
raw with pebbles, tripping
over roots and stumbling, spinning

bow-legged ballerina in
one night
show
of hands: who here
needs to be saved?

who here needs to be saved?

and ejected, my last
moment on the pavement:
sky turning, flying shards
of instanced horror
and instant
relief/
fade out—

and what would it then be like
to walk away from the wreckage, unscathed
and realise
that maybe, there is more to this world
than what is found in the last moments
before becoming a was.