Sunday, November 9, 2008


One second you're joyfully jerking around to crazy techno music with five of your closest friends heading back up to Somerville in the I-93 tunnel, the next you're centrifugally jerking against the door as the car spins out and you crash at 60mph into the wall, alone, together, the six of you, in the post-midnight CFL low-glowing Lynchian tunnel, pointing the wrong way on a freeway in a tunnel right past a blind curve, the air after the cleanly pervasive smack of impact only the burning smell of metal violently bent and the suddenly ominous glow of the CFL tunnel lights, certain that any second the car will explode, or one of your friends' heads will roll off redly fountaining necks, or another car will come careening around the curve and finish the job that you were somehow too deft or lucky to evade for a few spuriously heartening moments.

But the car starts to move again, and the car turns around and drives, and it's making a terrible noise, but after five hundred feet or so the part making the terrible noise falls off, clacking numbly to the street, and the smell of burning ruin remains, but it must be far enough away from the gas tank because you don't blow up, and everyone who wasn't wearing a seatbelt or who has never been in a crash before or who has a phobia of law enforcement is especially shaken up, which is pretty much everyone in the car except you.

You've been this close before though, and closer, and you are familiar with the routine of Near Death, and you look forward to the stoic aftermath and the reflection, and the flatline knowledge that none of it is really in your control, and the thankfulness, and the re-epiphany that whatever you worry about all the time when you walk under the grey sky with your eyes down and fists punched deep into pockets really matters about as much as a fruitfly hangnail.

You wake up early the next morning spooned in with a loved-one, naked as birth, and feel the echoes of your heart beating clear up in your skull, and look forward to the way coffee is about to smell, the extra-sweetness of ricotta, the photoshop brilliance of the leaves and the sky.

1 comment:

deixis said...

shit. well, i'm glad none of you died.