Silly to question/ Someone must be steering this car swollen orange bags lay in weeds at the side/ I wonder what is inside if I open one will my own eyes look up at me? I keep driving I will turn off at the mall buy the tangerine sundress paint my nails and wonder about finding my self later/ there are perspiration beads on my arm/ enough evidence for today I understood those bags I told my psychiatrist I saw the orange bags on the freeway again through my window which I couldn't open. sure it was stuffy inside. but out there all those smog-covered people in their moving cans like a factory conveyor belt: were we on our way to being sealed shut packaged and shipped out? would I wake tomorrow morning lined up on Gemco's grocery shelves? he lit a cigar and nodded. he was listening. I understood the bags I said. two were clinging to a stick in the ground. one was up tight against bending bushes. they wanted to get off that freeway. to get out of there. did they tell you that he asked. no of course not, I laughed I'm not that stupid. I don't hear voices. I read their minds. There was one Orange bag crept toward steel pole then leaned there out of breath no hand to close the ripped plastic triangle like a rust colored heart bleeding leaves Melodrama of oranges at 7 a.m. someone spilled a bag of oranges on the Ventura freeway west every morning for the past week I've seen them cling to the edge yesterday I slowed down and heard them speak I want to grow up to be like that orange bag said the hopeful one pointing his small navel the realist gave him truth you won't be one you'll be in one then a truck swerved to miss a car and caught two oranges on its tire we all watched the orange stain disappear by the time the truck skid through sand to halt the door opened out stepped 2 men with orange bags and pointed sticks January 28, 1986, the accident The newscaster interrupted the song on the radio he said the shuttle crashed no one knew if anyone survived. he kept talking. that's when I saw orange bags 7 of them full and tied leaning in weeds. I knew if I could just get over 3 lanes stop and untie the bags, from each one an astronaut would step out I'd put them all in my Rabbit take the Sepulveda turnoff to the store with a phone I'd call NASA. tell them they're ok I'd hand the phone to Christa let her talk I flicked on my blinker looked over my shoulder for a chance I shouted slow down you fools but no one would let me over even if there'd been only leaves in those bags I could have rescued them Sticks reach out like arms/ There's fury in those bags Orange bags stick out their arms, legs at 55 mph and race beside my car beat spine fists on my window I push on the gas. 60. 65. lose all but one her twig fingers cling to my door. a branch arm moves across my windowshield she is mouthing something what do these bags want from me this is January 4th I turn up the radio and go faster no time for rantings of old leaves dead twigs, ripped pages yellowed and torn empty Pepsi cans stuffed in orange bags tied shut and looking like my sister
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Warren Wedin email@example.com