In A Single Human Gasp

I keep the windows slit, close my eyes, and weigh down the gas pedal-- welcoming errant shifts of wind in to wash out the street sounds in a deafening rush of white noise. I tilt my head into a beam of sunlight and watch the backs of my eyelids glaze like a vat of tomato soup. The seconds slowly tick, my heartbeat grows frantic, I try to still my mind like granite, ajar my jaw and withdraw from the cusp of panic, breaking the flowing course of fear, shaking, showing sheer force, Saying, "If you can hear me then you can steer me, God." five seconds slow by My body's a blotchy throb of adrenaline, soaked with sweat and shock poked in my skin like pins--when just then I unlock, grab the wheel and swerve as I feel my nerve endings flash-- images--an impending crash-- I attempt to bypass centuries of adaptation by evolving echo location in a single human gasp.