CRAZY LADY

Crazy lady in the middle of the road, on a school night.
It’s late. I’m tired. And sleepy. And weary.
When my aunt Jolie would stop for triscuits.
My way is the loud BBC stage of night driving-
People are killing each other. It’s a terrible terrible world.

This floaty, chicken lady. big eyes, crochet hat and glasses.
White, thin, helpless looking.
But crazed, definitely crazed.
Did she drop something? A sweater?
“What do you want to do-?
Cross or don’t cross-
Make up your fucking mind-
I don’t want to run you over for christsakes.”

Am I being tricked?
If I slow down will her bandit friends jump out and tackle my car?
Does she have a gun?
Does she have superhuman crystal meth strength?
Does she want money for the bus?
A lost witchy hitchhiker maybe.

Her mouth makes a big “Help Me.”
Is she hurt?
Am I the asshole who leaves a raped and beaten woman wandering the middle of the road because I’m afraid she will hurt me?

Ok Universe, if I pull over and lock my car when I get out I am stupid.
But, if I move real slow and she moves real slow…

If I die before I wake, make sure David knows I love him.
Let him find some poem I wrote years ago describing his touch and laugh and love.
I should have time to write this shit now- while I’m making this decision.

“Are you ok?”
“There is a cat in the street. I’ve seen him around and he’s beautiful and now he’s in the street and I don’t know what to do. People drive too fast here. He’s still warm and there’s blood and I just got my nails done.”
“You can do this with me,” I tell her.
“It’s so sad. So sad,” she says.
I do not think about Spook, the beautiful cat we buried in the yard as a kid.
“I don’t have any pets,“ I say.
There are boxes in the market dumpster.
I have plastic bags in my trunk
We don’t go door to door looking for the owner.

“How long before you think he will stink?” she asks.
“Not long I think. Not long.”
The cat’s in the bag.
So she takes him home with her.
Like a good neighbor.
A stranger.

May 2006