Not Turning Away
He’s looking with an experienced brow.
I’m not seeing him though, only the blond hair
And pool of life surrounding her. She’s looking
Up and East in the direction I am driving, her mouth
In an unnatural position of surprise and misunderstanding.
I’m quickly shocked by the wrong things.
I look to her arms and legs expecting to see
The result of 10-stories worth of gravity,
But there is nothing awry. She’s only dropped
Off her chair or bike or maybe just walking on
The curb with an armload of something and will
Be getting up again as soon as the embarrassment
That wetness in the hair will be washing out
Easily, and the clothing can be replaced.
My mouth is closed. My eyes are shuttling
From the police to the people to the girl
And not seeing any of them. She is there
Now, but the rhythm is missing from her breast
And the lights that were animating are moving
At the fixed speed toward the East. Sleeping
Remains complete and unashamed in the West.
He waves me impatiently forward and I roll
In first gear and turn North. Not seeing the roads
Or signs or dashed yellow lines that guide me daily
On this way. The images I hadn’t seen now replaying
For my reason to redesign.
And I’m not sure how long it will take to actually arrive.
(note: it's a true experience, and much more intense than I can possibly write.
Please feel free to /msg me with constructive comments.)