Carverian Transition of Thought

Near Mt. Vesuvius, I know Gio who will drive you to the top of the volcano, then drive you down. He speaks English, curses gypsies and has soft eyes. When you speak to him, you’ll think of what I am telling you now. You’ll say I was dead on.

Up to the top, Gio will play music. He’ll be squinting into the mirror to see cars near yours. You’ll play catch with eyes. Don’t dart away, remember: soft.

You’ll think of me on your way up. You should be attaining glory from the ride. No, you’ll be wondering about me. It’s okay. Human nature. Dostoevsky, Nietzsche, Freud.

Something will happen. You’ll feel for the lost of 79. A chill will shake your head, throw your shoulders, and wake you up. It almost used cold water.

You’ll catch an eye, and for a second Gio will be a mummified corpse. He’ll still be alive, will say his soft eyes.

Then, two bubbles will form in your mind. One will be the aware and caring You. The other will be the thinking-of-me You. Love you, but not now. The background is You without me, Mt. Vesuvius or Gio. Keats and Negative Capability, Shakespeare. A smirk and cocked head. A fun ride.