Synapse

 

The air is dense with particles

waiting to wreak havoc.

 

From the car, I crane my neck

at the Roman bookshop

by the roadside when the driver

careens. I don’t know

what hits me.

 

Time snaps: here and now. The crash moves

up my spine before the brain registers.

Slowly more neurons fire

dispersing the message

throughout my solar system.

 

I rise from the front seat as if from a dream

and step into the street.

From an unnatural height I look down at the car

its glossy black surface dented:

a shape once sleek.

 

We get away without a scrape.

Two friends who love to yell “shotgun!”

sit quietly in the back, huddled

in the lucky corner

the free space taken, punched in.

 

That moment far away you enter orbit

and I feel the ground shift.

Outside sparks fly like dying stars

but more than metal collides.

Our minds reel in awe.

 

On the sidewalk

shards glint and speak

of celestial rearrangement.

I will return home

to find you on your way.