Cycling in the dark one Friday night
Down St Giles, deserted without lights
On my way to rehearse with my church choir
I never got through Oxford, struck by liars
A car was coming at enormous speed
Is this to be my end, that tourist’s dream?
Time slowed down,I went up very slow
This world a film,a construct, down below
I fell as slowly as I’d risen up
Till I landed on my head,my jacket ripped
Yes, you really do see stars,I told myself
Not a metaphor, the shocking truth
Then I was inside the film again
Lying on a trolley, feeling Zen
