october death

i push my shopping cart out into the mid-evening

of the parking lot

the air has a comfortable briskness i haven't noticed in months

and on the edge of each breath i take,

there is the faint scent of smoke,

that seems always coupled with a slight cool breeze

i think briefly back to firestorms

and the weight of that ash, inescapable

now, my eyes glance across the sky, out of habit

but the only clouds are remnants of a two-week storm,

monolithic and back-lit by the first pinks of sunset

as i cross the parking lot toward my car

a monster of a vehicle lurches toward me in reverse

the tinted window or the desperation of life obscuring the driver's view

i angle away without incident

but the thought stays with me

that at that moment, i would not have minded dying

and when my life is terminated,

i hope it is on a day like today