Collision

Lost in thoughts of my to-do list

and creeping along in stop-and-go traffic,

I hit my brakes late

and slam into the car in front of me.

I draw in a sharp breath

and motion for the other driver to pull over.

We get out of our cars

and stand by the side of the road,

squinting in the bright sun

as we trade insurance information.

The damage is minor

and no one hurt, but I'm rattled

and apologetic;

he is irritated and insists

on filing a police report.

The officer arrives.

As she writes on her notepad

I look down at the smattering of squashed hotsauce packets

littering the roadside,

prod them with the toe of my boot.

I silently curse my poor timing,

wishing I had taken a different way home

wishing I hadn't looked down.

Wishing it all had been otherwise.

Then I think of Jane Kenyon's poem,

"Otherwise"--

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise

--and remind myself that I have a bad habit

of reading too much cosmic significance

into life's fender-benders:

Is it because I tried to get out of jury duty?

Is God, or the universe, trying to apprehend me

for something I've done

or left undone?

Yes, I could have avoided the accident

but I didn't

and it could have been worse.

I'm walking away from this collision

as is the man in the other car

and it might have been otherwise.