AIR BAG
Adam
Struggling to focus,
Through an eerie orange tinge
Cast over my world.
Fighting hard,
To clear my brain.
What do I know?
I am lying down.
The last thing I remember?
A girl's whisper.
A single word,
Superman.
What do I feel?
Something covering me,
something light,
perhaps a sheet.
Can I move?
My head turns to the side.
The veil of orange vanishes
with a minute tickle.
And then I see it--
the burning car
and I remember.
I roll from under my cover,
sit on the pavement
and then look back.
Back at my broken body,
back at Ali face down on top.
her red-orange hair
shrouding the face
of her human
air bag,
me.
May I R.I.P.
KARMA
Jake
Karma,
mine gone amuck.
It grabbed Adam
tonight.
Took shape as a gasoline/drunk
driver duo.
I alone know why
it blocked his trip
home--
why I can never
replace him on varsity.
The twisted sisters
of fate
merely were
granting my wish.
A wish made while Adam
was still alive.
LOST
Adam
Nowhere to go
it can’t be home--
I picture Mom getting the news.
The knock at the door.
Her calling out,
“Adam, forget your key again?”
A quick look through the peep hole.
Confusion.
Two policemen standing
where I should be,
red lights flashing behind them.
I imagine their words.
Four words that will destroy Mom.
They’ll be laced together,
bound in some logical order with meaningless crap
that evaporates
leaving a memory of four:
Drunk
Explosion
Adam
Died
AT THE E.R.
Ali
Arrived at the E.R.
unconscious,
my head in a fog.
or so Dad told me
later.
Why then do I remember?
Adam’s arms wrapped around me,
pulling me free,
the scent of his cologne,
his warm breath on my neck.
Dad holds my hand.
Can’t be good--
he hasn’t done that
since
kindergarten.
He gives
a sweet little Daddy smile.
Says, “You’re going to be fine.”
and I believe him,
for a second.
Then I ask him about Adam.
The smile fades.
He squeezes my hand
and says nothing,
yet tells
everything.
Copyright © 2023 by James Danielson
All rights reserved.
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