Destination Unknown

No, no you’re reading it all wrong
turn it on its side to make sense of it

The blood spilled out of my nostrils
when the ambulance veered to avoid traffic

The cops asked questions later, but I was delirious
high temp, and a lump of hot charcoal lodged in my throat.

The pattern you see is a Rorschach of my mind,
first stalled, bloody red, then green go.

In my imagination I cut out into traffic
nudging aside any lollygaggers to move ahead.

Funny part was the color change becoming,
not a map of movement, but a medical chart

which showed the precise moment where all movement
stopped and the passing lane faded into blurred lines.

Here in the bardo, this is all I see, this frozen frame
which I’m told will slowly fade into a darkened room.

The coffin is comfortable and someone was kind enough
to leave the zipper not fully closed at the top.

The breath is gone, but I like to pretend I’m still here,
shifting gears into the passing lane, ahead of everyone,

avoiding the puddles and slipping through from red
to abundant green. Destination: unknown—