Die Augenblick - blink of an eye - poem by jeffery oliver

She was doing her mascara. I remember it was a Wednesday afternoon in early April. The wind was beginning to blow off the Pacific through San Francisco. I don’t remember what I ate for lunch. Probably sushi and then back at the office answered some HR questions, called someone about the executive director’s retreat. The air was warmer that afternoon. She was doing her mascara. I left the office around 5:30 to avoid the initial after work traffic on Market Street, crossed Mission Street, new dot coms on the corner. Everyone seemed happy, it felt like spring. Everything in that moment seemed like that moment. She was doing her mascara. The sun setting on the Oakland hills was amber, golden, warmer than yesterday. We were all going home at the end of the work day. Another motorcyclist passed me, maybe going too fast, probably just enjoying the light traffic. She was doing her mascara. I noticed smoke coming off her tires, the black Maxima sliding at sixty-five miles per hour into my lane, the motorcyclist in front of me going down, the feel of the left-hand clutch lever, the car hitting the concrete wall, and then –