Ski Run
Paul McLaughlin

  --I'm pushing sideways through a cold black wind after midnight
  soft deep-snow snoring settles around me
  they promised to talk      talk     talk     to keep me awake
  but now I'm alone with the CBC on the Yellowhead east of Hinton
--the relentless side-wind strengthens
  bumps against my car like a schoolyard bully
  ricochets fistfuls of ice pellets off my windows
  sweeps rootless snow out of the ditches
  and resurfaces the highway with a thin skin of scurrying snowflakes
--blowing     drifting     swirling     blinding snow
  fractures my lights
  engorges my wipers
  builds an icy ridge that chafes my undercarriage
  snatches at my steering wheel
    and I ease up to the white-knuckle limit of my courage
--it's like we're rocketing down
  a black diamond     adrenalin rush     heart-stopping     no exit
  down-hill race course     on cross-country skis
--in my side-view mirror the lights of a semi
  glimmer through the plume trailing out behind me
  snow-spitting duals churn past, inches from my face
  my little car rocks like an Inuit kayak caught too close to an ice-breaker
  suddenly we're trapped in a pulsating snow-drift sand-dune white-out
  can't see     press the panic
  down     drive by instinct
  don't speed up!     stay on a straight line!     slow down-no don't!
  God let there be nothing but snow on the road ahead!
  hold on!     how long…     hold on!
--at last the shuddering abates: snow-dimmed running lights
  poke through the plume     pull away     disappear over the next hill
--the nonstop snow keeps cocooning in
  making the darkness darker
  all I want is home     shower     bed     sleep
  but my mind is swirling with wipe out     puff of snow     freeze to death
  on the Yellowhead west of Edson

March 2003

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