3rd Annual Poems About Suicide Month

[Bueller]

I careen around corners,
trying not to smash
into people, break them like glass
as they cross the street.
Children in strollers,
joggers on leashes are all going
about their days as if order exists:
as if all cars have brakes
and all drivers, control.
All I can do is accelerate
and slam into this row
of cop cars, just to stop.