“Roadlight licks the night ahead, licks / the white line on night’s new hide, licks /
the undulating blacktop flat, sticks its end- / less forking tongue out onward, flicks /
itself at culvert, tree, passing truck, a sign / insisting heartbeats equal conscious life” – J. Allyn Rosser, “Night Drive”
I made the two-hour drive to the house, my mother’s house, on Friday night. The storm was just coming up and I wanted to get here before the wind got out of hand. All those tall trees around her place make it pretty dangerous, in my opinion. Mother laughs it off, but she doesn’t know what I know about Dad’s death.
By the time I got there it was after dark and the wind was blowing hard. Probably thirty, forty miles per hour. There was no telling what might happen by the end of the weekend.
Another accident. It was definitely getting dangerous up here.