Friendly Fire

So many things get in the way,
You can’t name them all—
You can become a metaphor quickly here.

When I said: The chick just got in the way,
I was trying to explain—
But I could feel the words, like Chiclets,

I chewed them, broke through the skin.
They were salty as blood—
I grew larger than myself, monstrous.

When I said what I said I was
Clean out of language,
Like when you’ve no change for a phone.

So what’s in a name?
I aimed at one thing and hit another,
It’s regrettable, there’s no other word for it.