Burial - Poetry - Lakeside Park

Theme to Close Encounters of the Third Kind (40.4 KB)

WARNING: description of death in a car crash.

Burial

The needle climbs and climbs
55 ... 60 ... 70
Nearing its limit
100 ... 105 ... 108
Almost there ...
109 ... 110!
The engine is screaming,
celebrating its victory.
And I come over the ridge
and there's a stop sign
(I forgot about it)
and light from somebody's
headlights
Slam the brakes tires squealing
oh no oh no oh no oh no
I'm down to 80 by the time we hit
and then we're flying
rolling tumbling spinning
It takes forever to cover
a few feet
And all I can think is
"What will Mom say?"
And then it's gone
no pain
no fear
no terror
no fighting
Just peace
and love
and color
and music
I'm stopped
I stand up and the roof
offers no obstruction
I step towards the light
at the end of a tunnel
My grandma and my cat
come to greet me
and I realize
I am gone.
I don't care too much...
something greater awaits
I just wish I could tell Mom
I'm all right.

Too much of this poem is based on reality.  And yet, I'm glad that as little of it is real as it is.  I actually have a friend who did bury the speedometer (that one went up to 85) and slid through a stop sign he forgot about at 60.  Fortunately, nobody was coming, but I hate to go through that intersection to this day.  The right-hand column is a conglomeration of two near-death experiences I've read about and a little fantasy.
My paternal grandmother died within a few days of my birth.  She was heading home from the hospital after seeing me, and when she crossed a highway in Starbrick PA, somebody ran a red light and crashed into her car.  She died, and my uncle required surgery, but he's OK now.
My cat died in July 1997 after being hit by a car.  We'd just moved out here more in the country, so the cars were going 60 instead of 30, and she didn't understand that.


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