Everything depends on this:
your hands on the steering wheel,
your awareness of the periphery,
your foot lightly on the brake.
I watch you turn left through the intersection. I am stationary
At the stop light.
The space between us narrows
and
narrows.
For a fractured second I'm sure you're going to
Hit my car.
It won't be a fatal crash, but it will be
Enough.
I wait for it--
I see your face:
your sunglasses,
your body leaned into the turn,
your jacket open just at the top,
your hair the same color
As mine. I wonder where you're going--
You navigate the turn.
It's not even a close call,
really. I'm not sure what I was thinking,
Once you're gone.
I'm not sure why I drew my breath in so sharply.
Why I'm still holding it.
My light turns green and I exhale.
The image of you dissolves
into pixels that blow off the roof of my car
As I accelerate,
Powdery snow trailing behind me, diluted and lost.
