once, driving to college, i rolled my car in a bank of snow.
it was a harmless accident.
it was soft, no broken glass, nothing dented, twisted or banged.
when they rolled the car back on to it's wheels,
i saw all the things i had packed my car with
to bring to my dorm toss around in the car.
three years later i read ted berrigan describe his spirit
in a poem.
i think 'my spirit is like the things in my car that day.'

the cursor moves like a silver bird
i stand in my 24th year
the fall happens now
water comes down my face
as i inhale
i submerge and exhale
something disctracts me
i read autumn by garcia richards
on poets.org