|
When the car broke on the dark road in the rainand me still
in my dressy clothesmy fickle phonemy cross to bear
againyet againrefusing to turn on even to light upno
bones thrown for me but figuresyesterday I dropped it in a bucket
of varnishnot on purpose not my faultit slipped from my
breast pocket and ploppeda perfect hole-in-one.Tried pushing
the buttonsmy fingers steeped in varnish nowthe air in the
car all varnish vaporno clean breath to be foundso I got out
though the rain was really coming downturning to sleetand me
swollen in clothes that suddenly didn't fitpinch and itch oh bare
legs hobbled feetheels sinking in roadside gravel. I looked away
unseeingover a dark fieldwhat to do seemed all was lost
all for naughtwhen a station wagon pulled up behind my car
an old model with a bad mufflerthe wagon not my carplenty of
room in back for a bodythey'd find me in this bad suit my
underthings, my hair maybe not as clean as they could bebut a
woman stepped out and she looked nice, a very nice-looking woman, she
smiled and said I looked like I needed help and I said yesoh yes
pleasethank youand got in her wagon.In back not
bodies but birds in cagescooing or chirping or purringnot
sure if the sound was happy or sadthey had no room for standing
and I thought I knew how they felt. They're game birds said the woman,
for huntingI'm delivering them to a farm where men from the city
pay to come and rent dogsand we set the birds loose and they
shoot them or the dogs get themin which case we set them loose
again and then the men shoot them.That doesn't seem very fair for
the birds I saidmeaning to be sternbut it came out more like
a jokeand the woman must have thought so too because she laughed,
I know, she laughed, and what's worse iswe take each bird out of
its cage and spin it around before we release it so when they fly off
they're dizzythey're scaredthey don't know down from up!
She laughed. The rest of the way to town we listened to the birds
the sounds they made not gentleI don't want to say gentle
because who knows what was on their mindswho knows what the
brains of animals are likeI certainly would like to knowoh
mystery of mysteriescan you imagineI imagine it like
abstract paintingor atonal musicbut foreign in a way I can't
imaginecan you imagine something you can't imagine?Their
sounds not gentlebut the effect they had on me made me feel
gentle like they were sanding my edgesmost of the time I feel as
though I am honing razorsbut they made me feel gentle and I sat
looking at my hands while the woman drove. She made sure I got someone
on the phone before she leftwaving and smilingthis person
who probably saved my lifethe walk to town was more than ten
mileswhat would I have done if she had not stoppedI do not
knowI do not wish to consider it now that I am safe and warm and
dryat homein soft clothes and thick socksbut I do wish
to consider this: have I just been handled and spun around and let
looseand am I falling or am I risingand what swift bullets
are now tracing my path?
|
