Play Me In Reverse, Nicole Parrish '12

by nicoLe parrish '12

We skirted around wet asphalt, the sound of rain a symphony pounding final cadences on the windshield

and the skipping fins of ice-sharp rainfall emerging from under our tires.

The world was silenced save for the slow crescendo of God's

magnum opus Symphony in the key of the Rainy Midwest. Adrenaline put the video screen outside our window on mute.

Cue slow motion skidding. We flew, and when the cosmos decided to take the remote control of our lives

and turn up the volume just in time, we could hear the explosion, and the windshield rain

sliced through our clothes. It was a rainy Midwestern day in the ditch. The news reporter would gloss over the event, mentioning a couple of undesirables, but focusing mainly on the weather it was a rainy day in the Midwest that morning. Play me in reverse and it might be true. The ground was raising watery hell, and we two undesirables

were chasing down good, upstanding citizens because that's just what young inner-city kids do something in the genetic makeup of those coloured kids' gave us a predisposition to invade the lives of the more civilised' people. Play me in reverse, so take becomes give and we let go of the generosity of the State, managed to go hungry despite the magnanimity. Play it all backwards so kill becomes Llik/Lick

up a plate full of food and mis primos are finally gaining some weight. So please, play me in reverse like maybe we might have been born on the street, equipped by old age and grow younger in the comfort of our homr grow down to better days. Play me in reverse so falling becomes flying and no matter the direction

we'll still be in the racecar; the road ocean ahead of us

leaping into the air so we could pass by safely. Play me in reverse and see how my body pours forth crystal fragments like pieces of my soul in worship, creating windshield barriers; and send me up into the clouds so undesirable becomes untouchable; then play the tape again and see It was a sunny day in the Midwest that morn