Hey guys,
This poem is about a street race I may of been involved in when I was younger. I think I repressed it for about ten years until it randomly popped back into my consciousness. A week or two later I wrote the first draft. of this poem
Till next time,
Justin
A Close Call
by Justin Gil
one time when I was 17 I got real close to death. I was a passenger in a two-car street race blazing down the straightaway, we sped alongside a sugarcane plantation reaching 120 miles per hour in a few blinks. when we had our fun Bird eased up on the engine, none of us saw the Mustang charging behind us at full bore. not expecting us to slow down, the man in the American muscle jerked the wheel to its limit. swerving back around and locking eyes until his tires regripped and launched him into the trough by the road. we checked him out, his car was stuck but he was fine. we called the tow and headed back to the station at the start of the run. there were five of us in the car, Bird cut the engine while we all kept humming. 'well that could have ruined our baseball season', I quipped. the guys all laughed and our nerves may of gotten wounded, we all silently went on with our lives and had pretty good baseball careers.
This poem was first published in I Don’t Belong Here and Neither Do You