church, freeways, and dad

i remember when i used to go to mass as a kid. we heard a loud noises outside, sirens, panic , someone laid down on the tracks, and committed suicide, the white sheets covered the parts. Indelible memory

my father drove slow so we could get a good look.

i remember when we used to go to the old mans house and he was a drunk. but he was the old man. on the way there was horrible accident, dead bodies every where, uncovered, only one woman sitting on the street between the the wreckage and uncovered bodies,

my father drove by real slow so we good get a good look.

It took years for that image to stop floating in the air when i went to bed at night.

Now the images are buried deep, the details lost.