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We dragged the bodies down the wrong side of the road
And stacked their bones like an exhibit behind museum glass.
I remember our hands were too cold to light our cigarettes
So we held them above the bumper of our redhanded Chevy,
Breathing white air onto our fingers around a campfire of exhaust.
Somewhere down the way a lone bird cried a primal warning.
The ground hummed with distant wheels on gravel moving quickly.
Our lofty shoelaces chained our shoes to our feet; frozen to the scene.
Chewing nails down to skin, wrapping scarves like nooses around our necks-
You were the cops, we were the robbers.
You were the prisoner, we were the jail.
Hands crossed for icy handcuffs though none had come yet
So we tied our frosted breath tight inside our shivering body bags.