Split

I’m going over the last thirty minutes
Like an NBA playthrough. We were up! The radio plays
Cobwebbed, background music for breakup ads, crying girls in cars
Boys that lay back

In the driver's seat, checked out. I’m checking out
The weekly playback, marveling mastery of fowls
In losing games. The radio swells

Behind my sorry monologue. It’d be best
To unclick the seatbelt, pick up my legs
And punt my ass out of the car.

But I don’t, I concede to silence
Let the notes of the music do it’s thing
Maybe a minor chord will release him

From the clutch of Mr. Hyde appearing
With no warning, confused, I was kissing Jekyll.
It’s fun until we’re lost in the freeze of splitting.

He gets up and puts his hand on my shoulder.
My words now babble, nuke or nothing?
Tonight, no bomb; it’s an asterisk.
”Wanna sleep over tonight?”
I do, I do, I do.