Flat on my back on the rusted chassis
Of an old car from which the driver's seat
Has been removed my foot is still able
To reach the gas pedal and I know my
Task will be to back the wreck up the
Narrow inclined board upon which it now
Rests worrisome though that is as I lack
Confidence in the engine and also in my
Ability to steer the chassis up the inclined
Board while on my back and facing in the
Wrong direction. This takes place in the
Cramped semi-darkness of some creepy
Hotel's rat-infested basement or coal chute
Whose walls are slick with a rancid humidity
And then as I hesitatingly step on the gas
An attractive thirty-something woman attired
In a navy blue short-skirted business suit
Materializes out of nowhere and with a
Wry smile observes my contraption starting
To move, its engine grinding and whining
But actually doing better than I expected
Inching its way up the inclined board
As the corporate woman glides along
Behind it until we reach the chute's crest
Beyond which I somehow intuit there lies
An entirely new and brightly lit reality.
'Hey, nice get,' says the woman smiling
Broadly now as the last words of
Cotton Mather suddenly come to me:
'Is this death? Why, I can do this!
'Death? Oh yes, yes, I can do this!'