I Wouldn't Call It A Decision

The whole reason I decide to take the interstate is because it’s my first time placing Roxies in my butthole. Actually I wouldn’t call it a decision, more like on one shoulder a sober little me screaming are you fucking crazy, no driving at all! Versus the other little me, high, imagining the Roxie has further to travel to the brain from the asshole. The thought of having to shit is like the fat little hamster on a wheel in my head pausing to say, both you dumb bitches are wrong, we might have to shit. All four of us, high me, sober me, little me, and the fat hamster stop to watch one car get closer, another slow down, and we all probably have an idea of what can be done but I think in the end the hamster makes the choice to speed up and get around his damn wheel. Standing in the middle of the interstate wondering if I should scream from the blood in my hair or scream at the goddamn helicopter to stop whipping my bloody hair around, or because my sixty-eight dollar Rocawear slipper is lost. Kevin's brand new Jeep is on fire and I am alive, wondering if I can get to the backseat and look for the slipper, it’s only on fire in the front. Hamster on the wheel, maybe if the guy on the motorcycle can do something besides look stupid...

-Verna Sealey