Blood and useless wings

All the cities

look the same under the rain

and so do I

driving the interstate-94

with bugs tired of light

and trying to blat it out

with their bodies

until they find the aerodynamics of my front window

and me looking outside it

at the lonely road in front

with signs of penalties for hitting construction workers

but there are none to be found

even though I drive faster

hoping to nudge one to make a friend

after showing them I can pay the sum

of their care

for even the radio is a buzz

which may attract the bugs more

and their collision with me

may be an attempt to mate

but I am too fast of a lover

and plow their innards

all over the reflection of my face

while also wedging the electronic echoes of a CD

and hearing scratch-scratches and jumbles of words

as though some singer was suffocating somewhere

or maybe my ears were

which I have no doubts is an odd place to breathe

but it is necessary when I can’t remember the last time

I inhaled or exhaled on this road

so I open my window

to let some air in and exhaustion from the car out

and mosquito slips by instead

to kiss my arm

and receives a smack in return

because I am not ready for that kind of commitment

from something I just met

only to find myself spread

with one limb on the wheel

the other dangling across

blood and useless wings

with my eyes on the road

of construction that never ends

though it hasn’t begun either

and that looks like

red rocks in the rain

and the dying light