inelastic collision


on the traces people leave, even though you no longer speak.

you and I were like cars
trailing each other along a track
in the dark, no headlights.

you’ll never know this, 
but your propaganda worked. 
when I watch formula one now,
just the highlights
(you were the one with the subscription)
it is your team I cheer for.

of course we were going 
to crash. you were always
too late on the brakes,
too volatile
(I was too early to assume the worst of you)
and I could only
tolerate so much. 

I’ve started watching
motorcycle races instead
(not just because of you, but also)
to enjoy a sport 
you haven’t touched.

the damage is repaired now
but you are still a crack
in my rearview mirror. 

I run my finger over it. 
I hope you’re doing better too.