I drive too fast
The motor whines like a police car
And eyes glaze over.
I walk past the empty room
The wood stretches and pops
And the noise echoes like a bang
Against bare walls
The sound of a new house
The sound of a house left behind.
He used to walk me to school
And forget to take me to my best friend’s birthday.
I used to ride on the back of his bike,
We leaned around the curve as one.
He didn’t see us
He turned and we were going straight.
I eyed the car
I knew what they could do.
I knew that my skin was bare
Open to the fall air.
And I saw it coming closer but I
knew we were in the right and I
Believed . . .
I screamed
With all my heart and all my terror
And I still hear it like a bad dream
That left a scar.
The scream fades to a siren
The whine of a motor
Eyes glaze over
I don’t see it until—
I am stopped
And I didn’t pull the brake.
My mama says that if you keep a Band Aid on
You won’t get a scar.
I rip mine off.
I curl up in my car and cry
I don’t want to go inside.
I close my eyes
And the billowing wind blows the last brown leaves from tall trees.
And then the rain comes.
I watch it drip from the roof in the dark.
Highlighted by headlights
Each drop is a shooting star
Fired downward from its perch.
I look closely and from afar and
An invisible curtain ripples
Gently in the breeze
White
Against the dark.