by Matt Morris
Maybe you’re like me, driving
with nowhere particular in mind
when you pass a hitchhiker
who resembles you to the freckle.
Startled, you fishtail around a curve.
To one side’s the stone face
of the hill that the road’s cut from,
& to the other, down the steep
slope, mostly pine & fallen rock.
You pump your brakes hard
& turn opposite the skid,
only now, doing a donut,
you’re heading straight
for your double. Remarkably,
there’s just a soft thump upon impact.
You know you ought to stop,
but nobody’s within miles,
so you keep going, still thinking about it,
asking yourself, like me,
what you’re doing with your life.
This piece first appeared in Nearing Nacoma
Musical composition by Victor David Sandiego