Speed

The scene was terrifying. I managed to glimpse his face as the vehicle passed me, I was frozen, glued, terrified, stood on the very edge of the curb, teetering with my life, toes contorted through oil, and heat resistant dunlop rubber soled, metal toe boots, toes curled trying to save my life. His facial expression told of the searing moments of his torrid life passing past his eyes in mili seconds. Was he mentally bidding farewell to his family as he passed me, face contorted into grotesque contortions, fear acquainted with complete uncontrol of vehical management. 

I struggled with the feelings he must have been fleetingly experiencing. The fear etched on his brow, lips stretched taut over white gums, yellowing teeth grinding. The wheel, irrespective of which way he turned it, delivered no fucking real time direction of the vehical. I close my eyes and my mind and third senses wait for gut churning twisting shearing metallic ripping, crunching ????…….. Tunes.

They never come………. Is he alive? Did he survive?


I open my eyes and step from the curb. He is gone………. With a little amazement and confusion, a little glee to boot. I deliberate the horror passed. However, I feel enlightened and happy. A little sad. I never ever wish to be in that position. Ever.


If ever…. Reversing out of a disabled parking place in Morrison creates such a head fuck for me. Shoot me NOW.