when I was a child

when I was a child
there was a car chase

not suspensefully detached
like in the movies

this was Shove It In Your Face
Press It Into Your Eyelids
real

followed
into the deserted parking lot

cacti stiff
catatonic stars

my father got out of the car—
approaching the one 
containing my mother

containing her
like water not yet frozen
in an ice cube tray—

leaving me as witness
as the car 
sped for him

his body splayed—
stretched—
anchored—presumed 
roadkill

as the car birthed 
wings
and fled