In the town where he lived
so many people had died
on a back road the townspeople
called The Road of the Dead.
He never drove on that road. Almost
like a premonition, he felt death
awaited him there, and he was
far too young to die. But one
night when he was with his girlfriend,
and both had drank too many beers,
she talked him into driving on
The Road of the Dead, told him
he had to get over his silly superstition.
He agreed and bolstered by the beers,
he gunned his car down that road. But
a mile in his car swerved back and forth
controlled by a powerful, invisible power.
A moment later his car flew into a tree,
knocking him and his girlfriend out. He survied
the crash. She didn’t and became another
tragedy on The Road of the Dead.
He became a tragedy too. Unable to live
with feeling responsible for killing his
girlfriend, he took his father’s hunting
pistol, put it to his head, pulled the trigger,
shot his brain matter all over a wall,
fell to the floor dead.
Bob Boyd