All Text, Music, and Illustrations, including Paintings, Photographs, and 3D models, Copyright © 2022 by Jim Robbins.
Kings River, above the Submerged Car
KINGS RIVER MEDITATIONS
A cute girl, possibly
thirteen, legs crossed,
eyes closed, twenty feet
from the Kings River,
remained totally unaware
that my friend and I
were gawking
at her. Grabbing
a smooth stone, the size
of an egg, my friend
lifted his arm, muttering
curses at her, and I
lunged to stop him. Two
years older and stronger,
my friend just frowned
in disgust and dropped
the stone, stumbling off.
The girl never stirred.
And I never got the nerve
to ask her what
she was doing. I finally
scurried away, infatuated,
never to see the girl
again. Cross-legged
by the Kings River, almost
forty years later,
close to the spot where
she had meditated,
I remember a photo of me
and my friend holding up
with pride a necklace
of fish. That same
morning, forty years
ago, I had spotted
a car in the depths
of the river and shouted
for them to come see.
No matter how excitedly
I pointed, none of them
could perceive the faint
shadow of the car
beneath the glittering
surface of the water,
so no one believed me.
Our fathers both died
a few years later,
my friend gone
to some other state.
The hood of the car
has surfaced,
caught on a rock, tilted
like a stiff, flat tongue.
I close my eyes and empty
my mind, hearing the water
rushing by and then
nothing at all, everything
gone but my awareness
of the void. But then I feel
and see a sun in my heart
and a golden-equal armed
cross on my forehead--
I open my eyes, surprised
that I had so quickly
forgotten the people
and the river as I
gaze at bending reeds
And slippery stones
And rushing water....
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