point, but I’m
not real keen about admitting
it either. I shake my head
just about the time Mick
is dumb enough to say, Yeah.
Which seems to amuse Deputy
Dawg. I should probably haul
your ass in just for being so
stupid, Mr. Moron….
That’s Morona, with an a, replies
the moron(a) in question.
The cop pretends to look
at Mick’s license. Oh yes, I see
it now. Well, Mr. Morona, you
wait right there for a minute.
Ms. Gardella, would you
please come with me?
Not Sure Where
This is headed, but I trail
the deputy to his car, out
of earshot of Mick.
The cop gives me a hard
glare, then softens. What
exactly do you think
you’re doing? This is
too stupid for words,
you know that, right?
I nod and finally glance at
the name pinned to his chest.
Deputy Carson. Familiar.
Okay, here’s what I’m
going to do. You go
get whatever is stashed
in that pickup. I’m going
to write Mr. Morona
a ticket, sixty in a forty-five…
Holy crap. He’s going
to let us walk. My eyes
must betray my disbelief.
I’d probably do things
differently, but Kay
deserves to win that seat.
Won’t happen if the press
gets hold of the news that
her daughter is a stoner.
Kay? Sounds terribly
informal. Exactly how
well does he know her?
The man is good at reading
body language. Yes, I know
her. We met eight years ago.
I was a highway patrolman
then. First on the scene
at a certain accident….
I stare hard at his face,
try to erase several years,
and sure enough, it swims
into view, just as it did
in the backseat of Daddy’s
wiped-out Mercedes.
I Rejoin Mick
As Deputy Carson writes
the ticket. When I break
the news about his pricey
ounce, he actually gets mad.
What? No way! That cost
three bills. Add the fine
for speeding, I’m out more
than five hundred dollars.
“Shut the hell up, would you?
At least you’re not going to jail….”
And I’m not going to juvie, and
my parents won’t be involved.
As the deputy hands Mick
Moron his ticket, I’m feeling
all warm and fuzzy, until
his final admonition.
I know the last eight years
cannot have been easy.
But hanging out with losers
won’t make your life better.
I’ve come to believe that people
who survive accidents like that one
are either just plain evil, or saved
for a reason. Which are you?
Most of the Time
I don’t feel evil. But saved
for a reason? Like what?
I guess I’m pretty good
at sex, but I don’t think
I was saved
because the world needs
more (even better) sex.
Maybe Deputy Carson
is completely full of it.
Was I saved,
or was fate simply too
damn busy killing other
people that day to catch
up to me, too?
I don’t
let myself return to that
backseat very often. It’s
the place every waking
nightmare began. I
know
(think, anyway) that had
that day gone any other way,
nothing would be as it is
now. Right? Right? I guess
I really don’t know.
Kaeleigh
PE Today
Could have been ugly.
My leg is swollen, the cut
raw and inflamed. Jean germs?
I was saved,
believe it or not, by a bomb
threat. They evacuated
the whole school. Turned
out it was just a prank.
Was I saved
or was it only a fabulous
coincidence, one that kept me
fully clothed (hippie style) but
shivering in the pale afternoon?
I don’t
think rescue is a big focus of fate,
or whatever (whoever?) may
or may not orchestrate history’s
page turns. I’d like to
know
that I have the ability to
mold my own future, that if
I work really hard, I can turn
it all around. But truth is,
I really don’t know.
Maybe Life Is Random
No fate. No God. Just time.
The concept of God escapes
me. Some all-powerful being,
who rules sometimes gently,
and often not so, all in the name
of love? Who dreamed that up?
I see people who really believe
in God, in hope, in charity.
Mostly, they look pretty happy
and, on the surface, satisfied.
Christian. Like Christ. So why
are so many Christians unlike him?
We
not real keen about admitting
it either. I shake my head
just about the time Mick
is dumb enough to say, Yeah.
Which seems to amuse Deputy
Dawg. I should probably haul
your ass in just for being so
stupid, Mr. Moron….
That’s Morona, with an a, replies
the moron(a) in question.
The cop pretends to look
at Mick’s license. Oh yes, I see
it now. Well, Mr. Morona, you
wait right there for a minute.
Ms. Gardella, would you
please come with me?
Not Sure Where
This is headed, but I trail
the deputy to his car, out
of earshot of Mick.
The cop gives me a hard
glare, then softens. What
exactly do you think
you’re doing? This is
too stupid for words,
you know that, right?
I nod and finally glance at
the name pinned to his chest.
Deputy Carson. Familiar.
Okay, here’s what I’m
going to do. You go
get whatever is stashed
in that pickup. I’m going
to write Mr. Morona
a ticket, sixty in a forty-five…
Holy crap. He’s going
to let us walk. My eyes
must betray my disbelief.
I’d probably do things
differently, but Kay
deserves to win that seat.
Won’t happen if the press
gets hold of the news that
her daughter is a stoner.
Kay? Sounds terribly
informal. Exactly how
well does he know her?
The man is good at reading
body language. Yes, I know
her. We met eight years ago.
I was a highway patrolman
then. First on the scene
at a certain accident….
I stare hard at his face,
try to erase several years,
and sure enough, it swims
into view, just as it did
in the backseat of Daddy’s
wiped-out Mercedes.
I Rejoin Mick
As Deputy Carson writes
the ticket. When I break
the news about his pricey
ounce, he actually gets mad.
What? No way! That cost
three bills. Add the fine
for speeding, I’m out more
than five hundred dollars.
“Shut the hell up, would you?
At least you’re not going to jail….”
And I’m not going to juvie, and
my parents won’t be involved.
As the deputy hands Mick
Moron his ticket, I’m feeling
all warm and fuzzy, until
his final admonition.
I know the last eight years
cannot have been easy.
But hanging out with losers
won’t make your life better.
I’ve come to believe that people
who survive accidents like that one
are either just plain evil, or saved
for a reason. Which are you?
Most of the Time
I don’t feel evil. But saved
for a reason? Like what?
I guess I’m pretty good
at sex, but I don’t think
I was saved
because the world needs
more (even better) sex.
Maybe Deputy Carson
is completely full of it.
Was I saved,
or was fate simply too
damn busy killing other
people that day to catch
up to me, too?
I don’t
let myself return to that
backseat very often. It’s
the place every waking
nightmare began. I
know
(think, anyway) that had
that day gone any other way,
nothing would be as it is
now. Right? Right? I guess
I really don’t know.
Kaeleigh
PE Today
Could have been ugly.
My leg is swollen, the cut
raw and inflamed. Jean germs?
I was saved,
believe it or not, by a bomb
threat. They evacuated
the whole school. Turned
out it was just a prank.
Was I saved
or was it only a fabulous
coincidence, one that kept me
fully clothed (hippie style) but
shivering in the pale afternoon?
I don’t
think rescue is a big focus of fate,
or whatever (whoever?) may
or may not orchestrate history’s
page turns. I’d like to
know
that I have the ability to
mold my own future, that if
I work really hard, I can turn
it all around. But truth is,
I really don’t know.
Maybe Life Is Random
No fate. No God. Just time.
The concept of God escapes
me. Some all-powerful being,
who rules sometimes gently,
and often not so, all in the name
of love? Who dreamed that up?
I see people who really believe
in God, in hope, in charity.
Mostly, they look pretty happy
and, on the surface, satisfied.
Christian. Like Christ. So why
are so many Christians unlike him?
We
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