Slip

I did try to kill, I have caught myself

saying to friends, the man who killed me. I somehow keep

forgetting he didn’t complete it. I have no mind

for details. My life—it’s like a movie

I view on an airplane. A distraction. I’m at best

half-sure what happened. I want to start

over. The wail when they lower

the high-grade aluminum wheels at 165 miles per hour—

a powerful part. I hit the ground hard.