The thoughts drive me in circles, insane,
and it is all conjecture
that leaves me trembling, shaking, scared.
In the moving car with my nose pressed against
the window (cold and fogged} I know we are
going to have an accident and my hand will be crushed,
bone shattered. Later, waking up, my first thought is to
check where we are. An hour left on the
highway, still snowing, good. Things should
go as planned. As planned! Later yet,
sitting in class that afternoon, I realize the
crash did not eventuate. This is not me, then
, I am sure. I am still in the parallel
dimension, swishing fast down snow packed
highways and headed for collision.
On the train, knowing that at home there are five hysterical
messages from my mother. Knowing that the baby does
not 'just have a cold' and need monitoring, no, she's
in the hospital and now she's dead, *poof*. Shouting
already, in my mind, mumbling words in horror.
Chris, no. Shit. No. Fuck, stumbling over my own tongue in agony. Shuck. Fit. Chris, help,
she's dead, talking in my mind to a friend I haven't met yet, clutching his shoulders and shaking him. Fuckfuckfuckhelp.
At home the answering machine glows steady, no messages. The baby is fine.