The world has turned for a night.
The world was a BMW 325i. It was
to drink in new, turned tottering 
inward, white. It was the 1989
model. Please consider dirty me,
yes, so true. I model. It had a sunroof. This is my contribution. I know 
youʼre in me, oven, and a crank 
to manually remind me I buried it 
in the fuel. I open it. It had a handle 
to bury what I kept. What if I cooked the crank, and I kept a hatchet 
in case I failed, falling off completely, to bring people I find any love.