Poem: Apocalypses, Scenario #267-590

Poem: Apocalypses, Scenario #267-590

air so cold      breath rattles down my throat  like a penny tumbling in  the cracked engine of a 2008 ford ranger     going 75 on 45    with a broken a/c &  full of candles    during an ice age exhaling    2 centuries worth  of disappointment.   a loose spark plug coughs tufts   of chromed grass.     i figure    that to be this cold       i must have earned it,     like stepped on the crack  that grew  into the unbalancing  earthquake    or bur…