Walking Home

down the street,
I felt a car whiz by.
The wind
buffeted
carressed
pushed
and floated all around me.
And in that instant,
I wondered what it would hve felt like
if the car had hit me.
Would it hurt right away?
Or would it take a minuet?
Would I fly?
Or would I just get crushed under the wheels?
What would the landing be like?
Would I hit my head on a rock?
Would I black out?
And the driver?
Would they stop and call for help?
Or would it just be a hit and run?
I'm not sure which I would prefer.
I wouldn't want them to get in trouble,
but I would want to thank them.
And afterwards?
Would I die?
Would I be in a coma?
How many people would visit me,consious or not?
What about my funeral?
Would anyone come?
Would they cry if they did?
I kinda hope they would.
That way I could know who cared.
These questions buzz around my skull,
bumping and colliding.
I would want to fly.
To be in a coma.
If only to see who came to see me.
Who would hold my hand,
talk to me,
pray for me,
hope for me,
cry for me?
I'm afraid though.
That no one would.
That makes me cry.
But what makes me smile
is that if you asked me
if I would have stepped in front
of that car.
My answer would be:
Yes
in a heart beat.