The Border

I was driving south
very tired.
The car in front
slowed down in an empty lot.
The driver, the passenger
their seats were bare.

My nightmare #2,
my deja-vu
of the border.

I was driving south,
through the rainstorm.

As I braked,
a lion jumped into that window.
Like a car-wash scene,
its mane pressing on the glass.
It was both agile and mad.

With power,
shaking the car from side to side,
the whipping tail smearing
complex shapes in white.

Horrified, not just
from the carnage inside.
A savageness
a fury I didn’t understand.

Then I noticed, left on,
the radio by my bedside
broadcasting news
of the border.

jam11