Ghost on the Interstate Dark and early I pick up this ghost, just as though I’ve slowed, unlocked the door. Bolt upright in the passenger seat, staring deep beyond whatever headlights show, confused, the guy’s mislaid himself, or been abandoned. I’m basically unafraid. Skin crawls, then settles. This spirit is harmless, with him I barely register. Once we hit the Interstate, there are stretches where I might forget he’s here. Indifference calms him down, so we’ll ignore one another. Miles along, I sense him glimpse my face in the little mirror. There’s a creepy spook inside my car, checking me out, and I’m not losing it. In fact, it’s hard to stay awake. Right now I wish he’d drive, at least till first light. Perhaps I’ve motored into nightmare, though this wan rider won’t spill blood. If it’s my time, he’ll make me just forget, forget, forever down the long highway. I too might be not dead, not alive. Tons of minds are just like that, through no fault of their own, or else its all their fault. Time to wake up once he’s gone, less than gone, more gone than gone. Time to wake, always.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Nov 2014 21:44:07 +0000