06 March 2008

Susan Mitchell

[from Susan Mitchell's The Water Inside the Water, 1983]

Once, Driving West of Billings, Montana

I ran into the afterlife.No fluffy white clouds. Not even stars. Only skydark as the inside of a movie theaterat three in the afternoon and getting bigger all the time,expanding at terrific speedover the car which was disappearing,flattening out emptyas the fields on either side.

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp It was impossible to thinkunder that rain louder than engines.I turned off the radio to listen, let my headfill up until every bonewas vibrating — sky.

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Twice, trees of lightningbroke out of the asphalt. I could smellthe highway burning. Long after, saw blue smoke twirlingbehind the eyeballs, lariatsdoing fancy rope tricks, jerking silverdollars out of the air, along with billiard cues, ninepins.

I was starting to feel I could drive foreverwhen suddenly one of those trees was right in front of me.Of course, I hit it — branches shooting stars down the windshield,poor car shaking like a dazed cow.I thought this time for sure I was deadso whatever was on the other side had to be eternity.