waiting for the windshield to defrost

in a wounded Tennessee winter.  They say 

you shouldn’t catch the snow in your 

mouth anymore.  It’s dirty.  But I won’t

tell anyone if you do.  we aren’t rich enough

to be the ones who caused it, but I’ll still

swallow the frosted smog and pesticides.

this poisoned world is still living, and

I’ll take my chance to live alongside it.

letting the hands of the clock tick down,

rolling down my windows to let in the cold,

swallowing lead and mercury tap water,

dying in the shadow of asphalt and gilded towers.

watch the roots snake through my ribs, 

the birds and rats taking their fill of my flesh.  

I’ll be happy to have lived in the last breaths 

of our song, resting in the decrescendo.