I pulled myself from what was left of that beater’s frame. I scratched the VIN and I ripped off the license plate. I poured some gasoline on top to cover up my shame. I watched the two things I loved most go up in flames. Sunburnt tongues the songs they’d sung spat out spit and twisted up. Salt water, foam, a sea of grief, I spat out blood and broken teeth. The way she used to say my name. The way the light shined off her face. I screamed. I looked for someone to blame. I screamed: “How could you? How could you? How could you take her from me? You coward! I’ll k** you. I’ll make you wish you never lived.†I reached outward in shame. I looked for someone to blame. But there was no one to find. Just the Devil and I. I woke up in my room the next day still alive. Sick and sober without you by my side. I turned on the Radio. “Last night on road 25 a car was found with a woman inside. Fractured spine, paralyzed, set on fire and left to die.†“How could you? How could you? How could you take her from me? You coward! I’ll k** you. I’ll make you wish you never lived.†I reached outward in shame. I looked for someone to blame. But there was no one to find. Just the Devil and I.