Wreck

December 17, 2011

Transcribing my New York poems from my notebook, almost defeated–wholly defeated in places– by my execrable handwriting.

DJ and Russell and I went to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie, and, returning, saw a car speed up Merrimon, turn sharply in front of another car, and disappear down a drive between two businesses. Another car had been chasing that one at a similar high speed, but kept on going. When we passed the drive I saw that the car was lying on its side, pouring out smoke. We stopped and I ran back to see a small crowd (mostly diners from the Thai restaurant) exhorting the driver not to move. He was conscious, but I would say not fully cognizant of what happened. That he was alive was incredible, for the car had taken out a retaining wall, and turned completely around and flipped onto the driver’s side, and was a wrecked as anything I have ever seen. The driver was trying to crawl out through the peeled back roof. The pavement was strewn with glass, and the people from the restaurant kept trying to convince him to stay inside the car until the paramedics came, as there seemed to be no danger of explosion. Either drunk or in shock, he kept murmuring, “no broken bones. . .” His face was bloodied, and had clearly bashed the windshield from the inside. His scalp was torn and gushing blood. As I had nothing to say to him that the diners were not already saying, I began walking up the sidewalk. It was apparent then how narrowly the event missed being worse, as the woman he had cut in front of and the boy who had been walking up the sidewalk at almost exactly the spot of impact were both standing in the dark, shaking off the shock. DJ observed that if we had not been slowed by the idiotic obstacle course on Murdock, we might have been even closer to the crash than we were. He might not have missed us as he had the shaken lady.