BYBY BBY

He struggles to hold all eighteen wheels in his tiny hand
He plows them into the side of a John Deere tractor
He sends them flying down the stairs
He plays nine-car pileup
running the oil tankers into the train cars
the fire engine into the ambulance
the school bus into the garbage truck

He coasts over deer with ease
He pries squirrels from the asphalt
with a broken poplar branch
His dreams are filled with dead sparrow
and squashed possum, a flattened cat or two
He backfires in his sleep
wakes and stomps on his stuffed animals

He devours car wreck footage
in online forums after school
He has been warned about
standing behind the van
luxuriating in its exhaust
He will not shut up about
James Dean, Princess Diana
He watches the semis from his window

and longs to haul chocolate chips
and cookie dough through the night
He once gave himself a mustache
with his uncle’s old motor oil
Come morning, he is found sleeping
in the back of a neighbour’s pickup truck