I needed my neck adjusted far more than a homeless hooker from Honduras.
I had a historic blowout in Kingsland yesterday by some dumbass driving an expensive sedan.
She might as well have been a hooligan from Hoboken, because she cursed and agonized over her car while I was trapped in mine, bleeding and dizzy because the air bag didn’t deploy.
I had no energy for violent outbursts. All I could think about was calling my wife. But my signal was crappier than this bitch’s driving and my body ached from the impact of a car slamming into me at 75 miles an hour. My glasses flew off somewhere and my satellite radio had another GD commercial. (Why the hell am I paying for radio anyhow?)
Hours later the tow truck dropped off an omelette that used to be an auto at the dealership and my wife picked me up. She spoke of luck and grace, since I had two small boys at home. And I was not ungrateful but couldn’t stop thinking about the four payments remaining on the car loan.
I was almost debt free.
Now I needed a chiropractor, a lawyer and a new car. None free. None without fault.
Hard to feel blessed with blood clots and big bills, but my wife is right.
Mark Antony Rossi‘s poetry, criticism, fiction and photography have appeared in The Antigonish Review, Another Chicago Review, Bareback Magazine, Black Heart Review, Collages & Bricolages, Death Throes, Ethical Spectacle, Gravel, Flash Fiction, Japanophile, On The Rusk, Purple Patch, Scrivener Creative Review, Sentiment Literary Journal, The Sacrificial ,Wild Quarterly and Yellow Chair Review.