After dinner I’m going to drive my Honda Civic
way too fast over a narrow mountain pass,
and 100 yards downhill from Painted Cave Road
I’m going to lose control and
overcorrect to the right then spinout to the left,
into the uphill lane where the Dodge Ram Pickup
is going to spear me on the passenger-side,
the whole mess coming to rest against the cliff.
I’m going to die and one of my passengers is going to
die and the other two of us are going to survive, just barely.
It’s going to be a real mess to clean. Scraping bodies out of
cars and scrubbing blood from pavement can be hard work.
The local news will focus on the road closure,
both directions being shut down for hours,
and how inconvenient it will be for the living to take
the long way around, through Goleta on the 101.
And in this knowing of my death soon to come, and in
clear view of the chaos I will create in the lives of others,
I now realize that pickup trucks made here in the U.S.A.
are much heavier than economy cars made in Japan,
that many dogs will get their dinner a few hours late tonight,
that they will be howling for their owners much like the dogs
on Staten Island in the days following September 11,
and that being hungry is so much easier than being full.