In Medias Res

But let's talk about you for a minute, with the vomit at your gullet
From a half bottle of vodka that we'd stolen from the optic
On the back seat of your car, because it wasn't safe to start it
You were "far too fucked to drive" were the words that you imparted

And the woolen dress that clung so tight
To the contours of your body
And the dead grass stuck to the fibers from us
Rolling in the layby
Were passed to dog-haired blankets
That protected the bench seat covers
And a crucifix was hung from the rearview
Mirrored by your mother

I'm leaving my body to science
Not medical, but physics
Drag my corpse through the airport
And lay me limp on the left wing
Drop me at the highest point
And trace a line around
The dent I leave in the ground
That'll be the initial of the one you'll marry
Now I'm not around
I flew for seven hours
The sky didn't once turn black

I wake from sleep, my head and shoulders
Wet against the window
A frost had formed and melted
Soaked me right through to my collar bone
If you were given the option
Of dying painlessly in peace at forty-five
But with a lover at your side
After a full and happy life
Is this something that would interest you?
Would this interest you at all?