One peculiar morning I was stopped, and quite against my will, but for fear of tickets and accidents I stopped all the same. It was a traffic light I had never before had the pleasure of inspecting from a sitting position. So at the gate of the red light I was looking with anticipation to be on time to class, toward school I was pointed ready to go.

It was then that a man took a tragically trajected turn, a left hand from the street perpendicular, he under-shot and right into my shinny beauty I was impatiently parked in. My silver wrapped love was nudged back and upward, the body twisted askew and totaled for certain. And me- me with blood on my face from my nose and my airbags litigious meeting!

With flapping hands and quite crunched posture I fell out to the pavement and struggled to the side of the fateful intersection.

“Wonderful” to no-one words came out.

The man with bad sight, or bad aim, whatever he was afflicted with, he stumbled out to my bubble of recovery and offered his condolences then offered me a smoke:

"Sorry" He let crack from his skull

(No Reply)

“You smoke?” He spat.

And I looked at him for a long time thinking how I don’t but maybe I should- maybe it will make him feel better- maybe it will make me feel better, before I could say yes or no he said:

“They’re menthol”

I said: “Sure”

He hands the white stick and the silver box to me, oh and how I hate those moldy menthol cancer magnets! But I smoked for the sake of sociability, my bloody nose, and my broken car.

“Thanks” I let slide out as I handed back his lighter.

Because I had a semblance of peace projected he just kept drooling words, and I  was stuck with a distant stare and just keep thinking- “I’m not mad, I’m past that- I’m a monk right now- Zen, Zen, Breathe in, Breathe out” Then I lost my composure.

“Mister I hope you have insurance”

“I do” And he trailed on through something long that I was convinced was a contrived-untruth as I looked at my shattered transport, in pieces ,on the pavement.

We sat for twenty minutes for cops after the 20mph impact and a routine twenty thousand total in damage.
Our cars blocked the road and a cop said:

“Move them”

I handed the blue uniform the keys and said: “Too Painful”

I could have moved it and he scowls because he knows and I sat defeated because I knew he’s ready to write tickets at the slightest slip of tongue.

In an odd effort to avoid dull despair I recited in my head that un-arduous aphorism: “It’s only after you have lost everything that you are free to do anything”. Only I was playing king Lear and after a comedown from the histrionics I saw all I lost was that old piece of junk and a little bit of nose blood that needed bleeding anyways, and besides that I lost my obligations for the rest of the day, which I see as a gift- so I gave into the happiness (yet my countenance remained that of broken dreams).

Now I needed a ride and without the wish to call for one I gathered my glass covered pack and gave the authorities my numbers. They will “call me” they said- Take care of my baby I said- I handed the keys over and he chuckled looking at what was left and said nothing.

I didn’t feel like explaining this curious catastrophe to friends nor family so I waved away the eager-to-treat-me paramedic aggressor and walked urbanely from the bedlam. Twenty minutes later I stuck my thumb to my left, to where the road is and two minutes later a lonely salesman picked me up. I assumed he’s lonely because of how much he talks and because of how I habitually assume the negative (and the same for why I assume he’s a salesman).

I was a well-dressed walking white boy and he said:
“It was a wonder to see you here”

I said:
“It was an accident”

He was referring to the part of town I was in whose color I was on average opposite and I was referring, of course, to how I got there. And I would have laughed to myself loudly, maniacally, without explanation, but my face hurt from forty-two or so minutes ago when my baby was struck down and struck my face.

We were at a stop light I’d never seen before in an equally un-encountered part of town and I felt deja-vu all around us. And I wish that never happened too because of course totally expectedly we are totaled by the casually-attentive motorist who made a terror of a left hand turn into us in our perpendicular to him lane (once again).

When the glass had finished falling I look to my left and my un-introduced salesman friend had a bloody nose and I laughed at the circular circumstances.
I got out of his silver beauty half-smashed, me half-stumbling, and I fell.

I woke up still on the ground but actually in bed and actually nice and warm and under white covers.

“Of course” I said aloud with no-one around to ask: “what?”

Only in a dream would that kind of a coincidence happen.

So I brushed my teeth and I felt blissful with the suds in my mouth, and while making faces at the mirror there was an obnoxious screeching bang. I slipped on my slippers and sauntered to the window and saw my silver beauty saddled by a fat red repulsive truck. Steam angled up and I didn’t even yell or curse or call for help because I was just prepared all night for this to happen.

At the door there was a knock and I saw my neighbor who owns the red monstrosity violating my sweet baby.

“It was an accident” He let break from his lips-

And so I said: “Only in my wildest dreams”