And So Captured

And so captured when less than least expected. Like walking by the corner liquor store, Baltimore 2008, and seeing a robbery in progress. But just continuing on down the street like it didn't happen. That didn't happen to me or anyone I know.

But the other night, after some rain, someone aggressively passed me on a three-lane road, black quasi-sporty car, no doubt pedal pressed to the floor. Ten or twenty yards after swerving back into my lane they lost control, wobbled, smashed along the left rail and then bounced right off the road and car-length-deep into the woods. The stopping wasn't a spectacular tree wrapping, it was a quiet thing. In the rearview I saw someone else stopping, so I didn't. I imagined a drunk and belligerent individual hot with somehow it was my fault. Another car behind me didn't stop either, and I burned with the shame of not-stopping until that other car turned off down the road a bit later. This did happen.

Every time I open a page. Every time I pass someone on the street. Every time I turn on the TV. Every time there is sunshine or rain or wind or snow. Every time I play a card. Every time I stub my toe or fumble in the dark. Every time I hold on or hold out or let go. It will happen. I will do more.