Into the distance, a ribbon of black
stretched to the point of no turning back
a flight of fancy on a windswept field
standing alone, my senses reel. . .
A shift swap has brought me back to the Witch City for the afternoon. My old shift is now occupied by new medics. I roll south along the straight gray ribbon of Route 1, under an overcast sky with the sunroof open and Pink Floyd blasting from the MP3 player.
Something in my soul loves coming back to this city. I don’t know why.
I sit in traffic behind a Slow Down for Allie bumper sticker.
I was working that night. I wasn’t on the call, but I watched the helicopter take off, and I saw the looks on the faces of the two medics who were.
We talk more now about PTSD and the toll this job takes on a person. Every time I see one of those stickers part of me goes back to that night, and I say a silent prayer for those medics. (Thinking of you, guys.)
Tongue tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, I. . .
Edit 11/2/15: I changed the YouTube link. While I love the song, the Official Video is a wondrous piece of 1980’s horribleness which I prefer not to showcase.