we lie scattered like the contents of an upturned purse his motorcycle stalled & steaming the driver reaches hot hands to noonday sun I stumble to my feet one child clutched in my arms the other child in a bush across the road as we were falling I thought this is death, & it’s okay because we’re all so happy to be alive shakily, we reassemble incomprehensibly, no one’s hurt the driver rights his toppled ride one foot peg is skewed the gas tank bears a fresh indent rainbows marble the spray of gravel that spilled us a rustling from the brush yields three women sheathed crown to sole in dusty black squealing, crooning syllables we can’t decipher they unwrap hard candies push them into the children’s mouths then all of us, helplessly, laugh