Slip
I did try to kill, I have caught myself
saying to friends, the man who killed me. I somehow keep
forgetting he didn’t complete it. I have no mind
for details. My life—it’s like a movie
I view on an airplane. A distraction. I’m at best
half-sure what happened. I want to start
over. The wail when they lower
the high-grade aluminum wheels at 165 miles per hour—
a powerful part. I hit the ground hard.
