No, this time Shame suggests
you take the driver’s seat,
and though you’re nervous at first,
it’s so fun—your hands
on the wheel, your foot
heavy with bliss—you split
the scene so fast
that Shame begs you to pull over,
leaps from the car, then tries
to hitch a ride home.
Meanwhile you speed
toward the sunrise as it
crooks its long pink fingers
at you, tugging on the hood,
making the whole world
blush. Yeah, you think,
it’s nice this way.
Out the window, the birds
are just beginning to sing.