Wake Up

Today is December 4th, the year 2006

I am parked on the covered bridge. It’s nighttime, the bridge lights are out. My car lights fail to come on. In the blackness, I can barely see. Only a few feet ahead and behind. Billie Holiday’s voice crackles through the radio.

Take my lips, I’ll never use them

I’m furiously puffing on my old brand. The windows are up—hotboxing as usual. It’s so cold frost etches the inside. On the glass, on the radio dials. No difference between my breath and smoke. From my cigarette, ash falls like snow. I notice a pockmark, a charred hole. Burned into the seat between my thighs. I shift into reverse, hit the gas. The car sprints towards a faulty beam. I jerk my foot off the pedal. Stare at the gear shift, check mirror. Take another draw off the dangling Marlboro. Shift into drive and hit the gas. The car flies backwards, then stops violently. Whiplash hits and now everything feels lopsided. The car won’t budge with either pedal. Check the side mirror, find the problem. Back tire is wedged between two beams. Slam the gas pedal to the floor. The tire spins, then I wake up.

Today is January 12th, year 09

I am on the covered bridge. I remember I’ve been here before. It’s pitch black out, can’t see. Windows all up, cold as ice. Crystals form on the radio dials. Billie Holiday croons All of Me.

Take arms, want to lose them

A cigarette hangs from my lips. I take a hit, it burns. All I exhale is frozen air. My hand hovers above gear shift. Put in drive, hit the gas. Nothing, shift to reverse, gas, nothing. Hold down brake, car lurches forward. Smoke my cigarette down to butt. Breathe a foul plume of midnight. Check the mirror, big gap behind. Ahead, I see a rotten beam. Push further down on the brake. The car catapults forward and snap. I’m falling, falling—I wake up.

Today Jan 9, year 10

I am on the bridge. I have been here before. Windows cranked, frosted radio waves. Blackness around All of Me.

Your goodbye left me with

Cigarette fused to my lips. Breathe ice and exhale smoke. Car is backwards, pedals switched. Shift into reverse, brake, forward. Take another hit, snow breath. Ahead, missing beam, gas, stop. Check rear and side mirrors. Put in drive, brake, backwards. Bleed my cigarette eternally dry. Lungs shrivel and spit nothing. Lose cherry so reach down. Swerve then I’m falling, falling. Splash before I wake up.

Today J 6, 12

I’m on the bridge. Have been here before. Crystals bloom on surfaces. Blackness surrounds All Me.

Eyes that cried how?

Cigarette in my hand. Inhale glass, exhale ash. Car backwards, check mirror. Behind me, broken siding. Straight ahead, crushed beam. Puff again, only shards. Shift into drive, brake. Car still, push gas. Inch forward, falling, falling. Splash, seatbelt won’t unlatch. Then I wake up.

1, 4, 13

On the bridge. Brand new car. Been here before. Frozen flowers blossom. Voice whispers softly.

Can I go?

I quit smoking. Now holds multitool. Check mirror, broken. Railing behind missing. Brake in drive. Check mirrors again. Gas in reverse. Pedal to floor. Hop faulty beam. More chewed ahead. Falling, falling, splash. Cut my seatbelt. Window won’t crank. I wake up.

2, 15

Again bridge. Car old. Crackle black.

Without you?

Breathe plastic. Cigs?, nah. Hit gas. Forward rot. Fall splash. Seatbelt cut. Window break. Up wake.

16

Bridge. Car. Blackle.

Why?

Ice. Check. Flash. Swim. Here. Before. Here. Before. Wake. Up.