The Pole

...

Advancing along the center yellow line I place cone after cone. Returning to the captain for orders I finally lay my eye on the scene. A single car wrapped around a tree as a snake around a mouse.

The pulsating slows as the minutes pass by. After some time the pulsating stops, leaving the pole alone. The pole is still again. Waiting, waiting anxiously for the men to return.

Mouth agape, I stand looking into the darkness that was once a window surrounded by the light of the engine. Nagging me the thought of trouble returns once again. And like an algorithm I begin to question; who?

The roof of the car peels back groaning under the pressure. Hands reach in and voices call for more immobilization. An EMT sits behind the driver seat holding c-spine on the driver. Giving the second EMT the immobilization bag I see the bleeding face of a dad. The blood runs down his face as tears of a wailing mother. Between his pain and his grief, the driver fades in and out of consciousness like waves lapping a beach. A single wave rolls in one final time.

The engine gravely returns to its resting place in bay. Men sink out as the hiss of the air brake strikes against the walls. On their way up the men gingerly touch the pole. Passing a sense of grief to the patiently listening brass. The firefighters fall into their feathery pillows in search of sleep on this dark night.

The pole remains standing in the night. And as the lights fade the pole becomes weak. A pair of headlights passes the pole hides its strength in a dazzling array of reflections. Left alone again, the pole is wrapped yet again in darkness. The cars continue like waves, passing incessantly; car after car, brightness after brightness; emptiness after emptiness, darkness after darkness.