Rain today. Last September as I drove back and forth into Lancashire to do the job I was soon to lose, I used to think often of death. Not really in the sense of dying in a car-accident. There is something strange and unreal about driving, the sense of being a body moving fast through space, as if you could just take off into the ether.
I die on the rain-drenched road
drive into the sinking clouds
wipers sweeping wet curves
across the glass.
I die with my hands lashed to the wheel
all the colours coming together
a small bird flying up from the ground.
1 comment:
I think that's a bit how I felt on the plane, it wasn't just the ascending thing, and in a way those weird, anodyne voices over the PA sort of added to the sense of it, being out of it all, in a kind of impersonal waiting period, moving through space...
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