Ficly

In A Single Human Gasp

I keep the windows slit,
close my eyes,
and weigh down the gas pedal—
welcoming errant shifts of wind in
to wash out the street sounds
in a deafening rush of white noise.
I tilt my head into a beam of sunlight
and watch the backs of my eyelids
glaze like a vat of tomato soup.
The seconds slowly tick,
my heartbeat grows frantic,
I try to still my mind
like granite,
ajar my jaw and withdraw
from the cusp of panic,
breaking the flowing course of fear,
shaking, showing sheer force,
Saying, “If you can hear me then you can steer me,
God.”
five seconds slow by
My body’s a blotchy throb
of adrenaline,
soaked with sweat and shock
poked in my skin like pins—when
just then I unlock,
grab the wheel
and swerve as I feel
my nerve endings flash—
images—an impending crash—
I attempt to bypass
centuries of adaptation
by evolving echo location
in a single human gasp.

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