Joyful Thing: January 2011

Monday, January 24, 2011

The snow began to stick when Tuesday hit the pass. She felt it in the handling. It was dawn and her hands were shaking when she came on these trucks pulled off onto the shoulder. Someone had lit flares. She saw 2 truckers leaning against a wheel well with their hoods pulled on. They just looked at her. When she took the switchback the car slide sideways. She kept driving. There was this tunnel for the road and the tire tracks before her headed into it. What she saw where the headlights showed was flat and black. It was because her eyes were fucked. It was because it'd been a day since she left and she hadn't stopped. When she let off the gas she coasted. When the foothills gave way it was coastal plains they gave way to. She made out signs above the fences. She made out clouds above the trees. When she pulled off it was to pee. She cried because it felt so good to close her eyes then. She couldn't stop so she didn't. The girl at the counter looked at her when she returned the key. The gas station was just something she left. The road was a floating bridge. It traced the shape cut into the rocks that broke at the madronas above her. Railings became curbs. She coasted through an intersection in this town. It was because she couldn't make out the red light. It was because she couldn't make out anything. She pulled into a space with a meter. She just sat there. With her eyes such as they were the world was just sheets of color. She blinked then held them closed. She opened them. Tuesday felt punched, crushed. It was the spreading dim coming from the sun through the clouds. It was was because it made the world look gutted. It was because it made the world look like something that'd been shot