The Remaining Inch Which Could Move Aside The Wrinkle

In heat, the military arrowheads peel back
from the tarmac, like buck teeth,
twisting loose, leaving just flecks as they
hook the roof-rack of each car,
slam them together

until vendor is clamped to vendor
braces soldered to each bracket
they try to rive loose, pushing away
while wheels fuse to rubber
tracks soften to treads

and they collapse –
frenzy over,
onto their backs,
welded, one
unidentifiable from the other.

Not one of us can resist
to shift down a gear to see
what split the hedge open
or to click on the pop-up link
and see both of them flailing.