He blows through the stop into
The car and 
Sedan: 1, Dirt bike: 0 his
Ride still chugging furiously on its 
side thrown clear
Of him
I think he is dead 
when I come here I think he is dead but

 the shock wears thin and he roils as the pain tries to wrench
him onto his side his arm bones loose and unpiloted by 
the shoulder and I 
grind pavement into my kneecaps my shins  to drop 
and mom this stranger, I insist “Let’s be still together.” I place 
my fingerstips to nest so gentle
his neck my thumbs beneath his ears the blood sludges
from the ostrich egg forming on his skull I point
to the neighbor and demand she call 911

I glare away 
the good samaritan who tries to place a plush pillow
beneath his head his eyes dart
to lock With mine and we breathe 
together in together
he wails I am reminded again
he is somebody’s baby 
“What’s your favorite music?” I ask 
“Can you hear the sirens? They’re nearly here.”