it’s here, locked

inside the trunk of the Chevy we tried out at the junkyard
and I said if I had the knowledge, I’d rebuild
from scratch, each one
from front to
my back and inside on the seats where we
fucked, smash-and-grab,
then you called out my name,
imploring every golden kernel of dirt,
and said, love,
we’ve been dead for years, dead
as every rusted doornail here.
Remember that because
I’m driving the Chevy to your house now, and returning it.
It’s locked inside the trunk,
with the bodies.