A crack in my
windshield reaches 40 MPH over the speedometer
The webbed
impact point indicates where the rock came out of nowhere,
landing between
the point of swerve and scream.
My life does
not flash before my eyes. I instead imagine
my police report:
Woman dies in
Toyota. Cause of accident thought to be
loud pebble.
I could see my fiancé
with a regretful heart—the vanished promise of a young wife and dinner
plans.
It would be weeks
before he could be with another woman.
My mother, grief-stricken
in her living room, gazes at the white box containing
my unworn wedding gown
that she wished was whiter than the ivory I chose.
The still-functioning
part of her frontal lobe wonders if she could still get her money back.
The tragedy of
things.
I do not think
of my father.
I do not think
of my sister.
I think only of
my mom and my darling and how stupid it is to be panicked over such a small
thing
as a rock.
