Once, I found myself driving in the dark, a man with a gun shouting from my backseat, so still and focused, my hand on the wheel. What made our two souls meet just then? Him, crawling to catch my breath, stunning me numb as he held me up, seeking someone to spill into, soothing his crazed soul. What makes anything collide with anything else, share gravity, entropy, or death? Our laws tell us we understand, but in the end it is only shock’s bright moan that calls us home. My hand on the wheel again after we stopped, after he ran, my breath, heaving, the moment over, stars overhead parading the mystery.
A.S. Aubrey is a psychotherapist/writer working with trauma, chronic illness and identity. Her work has been seen or is forthcoming in The Poets Corner’s Art and Ekphrastic Poetry exhibit, The Write Launch, Ipa’lante!, Cathexis Northwest Press and Hare’s Paw. She currently lives in Los Angeles, where the urban sprawl inspires humor and existential angst.