Slipstream

There’s a stream running through my head. I sit and watch it go by ~ one instance after another. When I try to push it ~ or tweak it ~ I disperse it. Now I’ve got several streams running through my head. I see images of my father holding me on his knee ~ a warm sensation comes over me ~ Jisho Perry stops by ~ but says he can’t stay for tea ~ my neighbor Don appears telling me it’s going to be a good day ~ and I believe it ~ I see images of Big Sur smoldering after another fire and I start to feel anxious. Now I’m trying to peek at instances that haven’t arrived yet. I hear Jisho's voice gently reminding me that I’m leaning forward too far ~ but it’s too late ~ I’m tumbling head over heels ~ hoping I’ll land someplace soft. I’m lying on my back soaked in sweat when Dr. Jones leans over and says I gotta’ get a grip ~ I'm having an out-of-sequence experience. Now I’m behind the wheel of an automobile and I see signs warning ‘curva peligrosa’ ~ I swerve to avoid them when sirens start to wail. Police cars roar by like a freight train. I creep along the shoulder until I come to an off-ramp and disappear down side streets.