Grade A: Cars

Written in Albuquerque (Terrace SE, living with Sari Krosinsky, teaching at UNM and T-VI), December 2003.  This series was conceived the fall I settled with Sari for good, and revised and reordered in 2009.  I should say I don’t believe in an afterlife, so poems that explicitly explored Jeffrey the dead boy’s situation have been eliminated or drastically reduced.  He’s important only as a commentator on this world anyway—to my mind.  Other readers may have other opinions.  The Prologue and Epilogue say—not very straightforwardly—that life-after-death is a device I know nothing about.  “Cars” was published in my book 3 Cycles.



It hardly even happened.

Well, nothing happens unless you notice

and he hardly even did,

for a long time after it was over.

So weird to get lost in this city—

he can cross it in a second now

one end to the other

and he always knows the way—

but he got lost that day all right,

he’d only been here once or twice before,

and just thought without thinking

that the school group’d stay straggled over a couple blocks

the way it had been,

but when he glanced up from the magazine rack

he couldn’t see anybody.

It was a short cut

was the plan,

he was sure he knew which way they’d gone

and could make it there faster.

He was a little proud of himself.

Four big kids jamming the sidewalk

didn’t mean anything necessarily,

or meant various things in various situations.

Something about him wasn’t from here:

this city, this ’hood, this doorway.

A drawing-together took place around him.

He didn’t even dislike it,

automatically laughed

which was what he always did,

and it wasn’t the wrong thing to do,

it wasn’t the right thing or the wrong thing.

When the knife came out

that wasn’t wrong or right either,

just something else to be settled

before he got to go on down the block.

He was almost imagining what terms he’d use

to tell José about all this

and see if he could get José to say “Man,

what kinda magazines were those!”

Then Jeffrey’d say “Just cars, man.

I ain’t shittin’ ya.  Only cars.”

He may’ve even said the word “Cars”

to the paramedics or whoever,

whoever was the last person

to hear his voice.