Yesterday there was a hell of an accident on Vasco Road. Bits of Porsche left behind. Driver and a dog dead but not a smear of blood on the road. Fifteen cars smashed on Highway 101. I didn't go that way but I'll bet you that by nightfall you couldn't tell that it had happened. Some nut in Oakland charging at the cops with his golf clubs. He got himself tased, jerking on the ground like a dying fish.
But who says it happened? There's nothing left by the time I'm awake. Vehicles have all been towed, the roads have been cleared and the nut jobs have been reeled in. All I see is the ghost of the day. Maybe I'm not real.