Get Away From That Car

by C. E. Hoffman

I would have kissed the frost off the windshield. Couldn’t reach. Too short. Too tired. In too much of a hurry.

They said you got away; you called shotgun, stole my shotgun and ran.

They said you escaped the city.

No one ever escapes!

How could you leave without me?

We were meant to be together — maybe not forever, but for now.

Bonnie might have made it without Clyde, but you wouldn’t get far without me.

Everyone told you to dump me: the les girls, the straight guys, the ones who couldn’t make up their mind. Everyone hated me.

I said I didn’t care.

I did.

You may think I’m this hot mess devoid of responsibility, but I know regret, and I know your smiles mean you want to cry.

I know you’re a criminal, but who cares? So am I.

I never meant to lead you on. I can’t be monogamous, but I am ardent, and all my passion’s for you. This is a fidelity only crazy can cultivate: the kind that makes me chase you across barricades.

I wore the dress you hated: the one made of cellophane, with the leopard panties underneath. I looked like a rock ready to roll. I looked so scary it was sexy.

Everyone says they hate the Big City, but how can anyone hate home? Whether you like it or not, home’s where you come from, and where you come from is where you belong. Maybe the city got us all stuck ‘cause it couldn’t stand to let us go.

Because it loved us too much.

I thought I’d be the first to leave. I thought you’d be the one chasing me. I’m not the one who gets left! I’m the one that gets to go; I’m the one who gets it. These are the affirmations I repeat every morning, even though they’re not true (yet.)

So far, reality sucks.

We do what we must to get better.

I freshened up the lipstick you said was too red. Fixed the mirrors, straightened the seat, pushed him out by way of my glittery platform boots, he splattering out the passenger door onto the tarnished macadam. Blood bubbled from his lips.

You may have taken my gun, but the truth is, I never needed it.

I can kill with a glance.

I would have kissed the frost off the windshield, but maybe it was clear the whole time. Maybe winter had long melted away, and for the first time, I’d end up where I wanted to be.

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C E Hoffman (they/them) was born, gave birth, and tried to die in Edmonton, AB (not necessarily in that order.) A grant recipient, Writer’s Union of Canada member, and winner of the 2022 Defunct May Day Chapbook contest with their chapbook NO ACTUAL SIN, they’ve been published widely online and in print since 2010, and edited Punk Monk Magazine since 2012.

Their #OwnVoices short story collection SLUTS AND WHORES is available via Thurston Howl Publications, their chapbook BLOOD, BOOZE, AND OTHER THINGS IN NATURE is out from Alien Buddha Press, and Bottlecap Press has released their second poetry chapbook, GHOSTS, TROLLS, AND OTHER THINGS ON THE INTERNET. Find more weirdness at cehoffman.net and follow them on Twitter @CEHoffman2.