A Shadow on Me

I was listening to the radio. I was in my car and driving to my house. There was a classical song playing, the kind where the notes go up and down quickly. I felt that I could have written it, that how hard could it be. But that is the way I think about everything.

The sky was overcast. In the distance the clouds grew darker but over me the sun could still shine through. A spotlight seemed to follow me down the road, and I looked around and saw that I was alone. A shadow crawled across my car and the interstate lights came on. One by one they came on as I passed them. They were all for me. The storm was all for me.

Runs and trills and strings and brass. A tympanic heartbeat. The song lived on and on, grew faster and faster before slowing down, there were movements and the movements changed. A dancing piccolo, a strutting bass. Everything was moving, around me and in me, everything moved. And yet I was completely still.

Static, flooding. I could have done that, too. I drove with my knees and put on my coat. I was in darkness and suddenly cold. I turned off my lights. Lamplight soared like fireballs, and I was the only one.