Late at night, driving through wilderness
a little shack, glowing with light
beacon in middle of nowhere – cue theremin

The road diverges on either side of the shack
I am headed in, does anyone ever come out?

I stop, maybe a hundred feet short of the split
throat dry, mind racing, inner voice rising
irrational fear and primal ear hairs reactive
sweaty palms clench, unclench steering wheel

Calming as I remember I am traversing
remote, protected wilderness I ease off brakes
inch toward the little cabin, figuring to laugh
with the park ranger who probably sees
many such as I, approaching with trepidation
though there remains in my head a lingering,
gnawing fear from too many teen movies
inexplicably, reflexively slamming on brakes

I become acutely aware of self-palpitations
feel the sweat oozing from forehead
dryness of mouth akin to desert hiking
irrational ‘it will eat me’ while
contemplating gunning my car right past
whatever horrors real or imagined
inhabit this remote bastion of desolation
simultaneously reminding myself how
silly such unwarranted fear is simply
imagination run amok even as I become
aware of suddenly sweat-stained armpits
surely now showing on blood red shirt
it’s gonna eat me
I again take my foot off the brake
advance toward whatever awaits, aware
that devils take many forms, evil can
often be found wearing khakis and hats
I pull alongside the cottage, prepared
to gun it away from who, whatever
is in there as the window slides open I
croak out an edgy ‘How are you tonight?’

“Great” says the young woman in crisp
khaki shirt, wide brimmed hat
“Did you guys remember the sauce
and the fries this time?!”

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2023
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