Mid-morning rain runs over windshield
while arms tingle, chest aches.
In the off chance this is a heart attack,
I pull over, turn on the hazards
slouch in the car and wait for death.
Who will find me – an angel
with sleep still in its eyes
who takes time to call for help,
or someone like you,
too selfish to stand or sit,
too busy listening to the whispers
of demons in your own head.
AYESHA F. HAMID 