Skid Marks

Sometimes I'd lie in bed,
watching dark shadows from the tree
dance on my walls.
I'd hear the crickets,
and my upstairs neighbors,
and wonder what song the tree was dancing to.

Sometimes I'd listen to cars
rushing down the hill my building sat on.
I couldn't see them
or the drivers
but I was sure wherever they were going
was very, very important.

Sometimes I would hear the screech
-it would tear through me-
the sound of locking breaks and sliding tires
losing control.
I would lie very still,
even the tree would stop dancing,
and wait for the crash.
There was nothing else I could do.