American mash-up

The wreck of three cars,
mashed into one mass of junk,
clunks down the highway,

more potholes than not,
towards a bridge that used to go
somewhere, now, nowhere,

except air, and an
endless fall to the junkyard.
Dash cams, body cams,

stationary cams,
continuously record
the execution

from all angles, with
continuous comments on
the execution,

play it back with incessant
commentary on

the executions
of the camerawork, on
the executions

of the comments, on
the execution of me-

on the incessant
eternal fall into junk,
on the transcendent

execution of
the trinitarian mass
American mash-up.

Roy Herndon Smith