a bra lays by the side
of the road as I drive past
dirty pink cups
straps askew, still
perked straight up but careless
over broken glass, and I
must ask myself why she took it off
who convinced her that she
should, or was it her idea, did it
get her what she wanted
won’t she need it 
once she wakes but also, how 
did we all get to where we are
right now, this place, and will we
ever find the thing that has been lost?