thoughts | issue 011
when another life peels away
One Friday afternoon after work,
heading happily to my car, just delighted
to leave before the sun is down
I ride the elevator.
Alone, I pucker my lips in the mirror,
see a smile not seen in months.
Get off the first floor,
ignore the receptionist, as always.
Push out the glass doors to the steel stair of
the backway entrance,
when, as I was about to let go of the handle,
I stop in my tracks,
noticing the unencumbered right shoulder.
It just registered that I left my bag.
Of course, there was no choice.
I have to go back up.
And so, on the return trip to the office, transcending the annoyance, I imagine the self already walking down the steps, unlocking the car door, adjusting the seat, turning the ignition.
Why did the universe stop me from just going on?
[That if I left the parking lot the time I would have, would an accident might have greeted me - a truck in the intersection? Would I be seeing a different cloud on my windshield, or would I be getting home in a more sour mood because of the set of songs on the radio playing in that fragment of time? The difference 2-3 minutes make.]
Looking into the elevator mirror again,
where would I be if I did not
forget this mundane thing?
Who would I be?
And so, another life peels away
(the me already driving)