My gas cap rolled down Hyperion Boulevard
and shattered in two.
The onlookers did nothing. The sky was
dark and its teeth opened me imprecisely— jagged
but chic. I hardly
had time to notice. I glanced at my
phone in the moonlight and in it there
was the husk of a child. I thought it
was a doll at first. Somebody
approached me and asked if I was o.k.
I told them I would be
in the morning.