Trauma

The red light glares, and I, it's insolent inferior, lower my head in subservience.
For a moment
My mind perceives the superior as a cop,
But it's nothing.
Hitting 3500 the car beats down the holy pavement
And the brake lights of all opposing seem to transform in my rear-view mirror.
I fancy a kitten frolicking,
But it's a raccoon,
Dead now.
His eyes knew me for only an instant, though his blood will know me -and others- for more.
The roadside plants lean towards the light,
Which strangely
Seems to always be away from me
(on the road).
"If I brake again, I'll die in 10 years," I say inside.
Contemplation:
Wrinkles; deep ravines emerge,
Like the distracting potholes in this damn road.
Why did I have to kill that little boy?



-Jake V.

__________________
A mi no me importa nada
Para mi la vida es un sueño