Click by Ivy

​Carmen Ghia
Black hardtop
Stick shift 
I learned stick on the fly 
Flew off the road into the forest 
Fucking stick 
Radio blasting whether I’m alone or with a barfly 
Hollywood streets are dark at closing time
Not like New York
Must be real late 
After work I stay to throw back a few with some die hard
The restaurant’s dark 
I’m lit
I scream with the radio ‘What I like About You’ 
Check the real view mirror to see if my make up is running
Fucking mascara 
Always leaves extra black shit around my eyes
Smearing my forefinger under my lid takes care of that
My vision gets sketchy
Might have poked myself 
I’m driving down some street 
Where am I 
The world goes blurry 
Like crossing my eyes to get a laugh
It’s that toy that flashes photos in binoculars with a click 
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Parked cars appear closer
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Parked cars go away 
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White line on my side of the road 
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White line vanishes
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Now as far as I hear death treats everyone alike
Death doesn’t care if I’m young or old
Pretty or plain
Girl or boy
I mean we all have a candle lit just for us 
when it burns down 
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I’m driving in the wrong direction down a one way street
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I don’t remember how I found my way home 
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Death doesn’t care if I write poems 
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I wake up in a strangers bed
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Hand on my ass
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I tell stories I can’t remember 
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I walk home without my coat
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I throw up on my boyfriends bed 
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I fall down and stay
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Death doesn’t care if I’m rich or poor
Religious or heathen
Straight or bi
Head pounding
Tummy hurts
I’m still high
Room spinning
Regrets surface
Deals made
I’m a piece of shit
Death doesn’t take to pleading 
Death doesn’t see my soul
Death doesn’t care at all 
I’ve wanted to die
To be taken from misery
Death isn't very smart
I didn’t die 
Some people are too mean to die
Is that me 
Some are too tricky
Is that me
Others are too stupid
Is that me
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