10 February 2008
In sharp sheets of rain, I raced behind Juan.
Cars whizzed past, drivers blinded by the rain.
Head down, the blurr ahead and behind,
I imagined Apocalypse in mangled bicycles
and bent bumpers, blood and water in the streets.
But how was this vision different
than the earlier vision of Juan and I
splayed across the concrete of Cabrini-Green,
surrounded by red tee-shirted TC runners,
blood spreading on white Catholic school shirts,
--we would have looked angelic in the rain--
TCs taking turns imprinting broughans
on our skulls: eyelids closing on darkness,
their faces the last thing we remember?
Was it really better to be run over by a car,
the filthy rain on your face, the hardness of asphalt,
the crunch of metal and the stench of gasoline
the last things on this earth you remember?
Given that one was certain and the other conjecture,
the answer is an unambiguous YES.
© 2008, Satya J. Gabriel