Out of Track

Out of Track On the way to workthis rainy morning my driver side window slipped out of track, plunging, bird-like, into the darkened crevice of the door. Bewildered, even startled by its fall, I pulled into a parking lot to try and fish it out, the wind-spurred rain like ice darts on my face. The top left corner of the pane was peeking, a curious child over an eye-high tabletop; the tiny glass pyramid of Windex perfection was now being tainted by frantic fingerprints, soiled by the loops and whorls of displeasure. Slowly I worked the window up, seesawing glass at 6 A.M. I tried in vain to place it back, the transparent picture not fitting its frame. I grabbed an oil-soaked sheet from the trunk, covered the void to fend off the elements. Temporary headache I told myself. Easing my Grand Prix back on the highway, its new piebald eyepatch pounding - a heartbeat in the breeze, I continued the drive to the job I despise, the temporary headache that became a career. Yes, life too can slip out of track. Sometimes shattering when it falls.