My Dad passed away on
a Monday and the next
day we heard a crash outside the house
to find my car, once parked neatly
on the street, had been bulldozed
onto the front lawn.
In boxers and bare feet, I chased
the sound of a dragging bumper. The road split
and I tracked the glow of headlights
until the pavement met again. Wheezing and hissing,
a big black truck with one side caved in
creaked to a stop.
“Hey, did you just hit my car
back there?” I asked. “No,” he said, staring
through a face of blood. Before I could say another
word, he hit the gas and burned a few tread
marks through Ms. Baker’s perennials before
disappearing into the night.
Walking home, something
occurred to me. I’m sure my Dad
reached the afterlife and had a whole list
of afterlife shit to do, one of which
was clearing out my karma ledger.
Now, I know my Dad. I’m sure he took
one look at my name and decided it was pay-up time.
He fucking hated that car anyway.
Karma Crash
Ian Valor