I sit in my car and I try not to die.
I force air through my nose and count backwards
slowly exhaling with each passing number.
- My house is alit with activity as I peel out of
- Rain pelts against moving metal,
and I can’t hear the radio.
- The world is a blurry photograph of
red circles and blinking colors.
- The radio sputters and pops, static roaring throughout
the car. The road before me
is a black streak blending with muted color.
- I fumble with the radio dial, and everything turns white.
- My brain is buzzing. Wind tears at my eyes and ears, my mouth open slightly
- I see red in odd places, on windows and foreheads.
- Twisted images of metal melting into metal, an elbow slammed hard
against the horn,
blaring out amongst the shrieks of the
emergency trucks and the
red and white sirens of the police cars attempting,
- be seen through the shadowy obscurity of the
- A phone call to my parents.
I open my eyes.
The car is clean and smells like the morning.
The sun is shining brightly through the
freshly scrubbed windows,
sweat beading on my forehead,
my mother watching me through the curtains
of our quiet house,
(as if I don’t know she’s there),
my heart thumping wildly,
like the energetic beat of a forgetful song
blasting through open car windows
on a frenzied, rainy day,
and I try, again, not to die.