Morgan Michaels

Mine is the case of a stolen car
abandoned in a road beside a fen.
Windshield battered, doors ajar,
tires lifted, slashed and burned within.
Headlights dimmed-their bright beams gnouted out,
antenna snapped, my thin, quivering ear,
Radio rudely jimmied from my throat
glovebox pilfered-all its tapes and gear.

Something criminal has occurred in me-
perhaps there is a body in my trunk
maybe some overturned complacency
sets your soul astir in such a funk-
makes you look and quickly race away
at twilight when alone you pass me by.