Car Ride, Oxford, 2011

Car Ride, Oxford, 2011 It's been raining long enough that I could not tell when day faded and night entered. But there are too many other things to notice: a dim glow that waxes and wanes as we turn, translucent lines on the window massaged gently into my face by the low beams. The engine hums softly; it has already lulled Sister to sleep. But not me. Soon, I will dissolve into the rhythms that this machine provides. My assimilation will be total. Except that they lurk just over the line between hill and horizon. They are clearly giants. I see limbs, ragged and spread into the sky. Imagine if they uprooted and stormed out of the woods, to wreck this pristine Oxford morning. To paint the horizon orange far too early. It's raining. I nod gently in farewell until the rhythms take me and I roll silently away.