In my dream the road we’d always taken
was choked with grasses and little trees
People don’t go this way any more, I said
They go round the other way, the long way
My car was bumping, straining, stalling
My fists were tight on the wheel
In my dream the checkout woman
peeled and sliced my apples
She was much younger than me
She came from another country
whose customs ours had adopted
I wanted my apples whole
I didn’t say that: I said don’t!
Don’t peel them! Don’t cut them!
She sniffed
frowned
stopped peeling
kept slicing
The white slices with red peel
looked good but were not
what I wanted
She put them in a paper box
with a cellophane top
I paid
She carried the box to my car
and got in the front to drive me home
It was part of the service
I screamed at her Kate! (her name
was Kate, like my yoga teacher)
Get out of my car!
She whimpered and ran
I jumped in
whammed the door shut
looked around at the back seat
my kids sitting there small
Put your belts on! I roared
and howled out of the carpark
but the way was choked
with pricklebushes and little trees
My car was bumping, straining, stalling
My fists were tight on the wheel
Come on! Come on! I hissed
but I couldn’t get home
Should I have let her drive?
How would it have felt
to sit in the back with my children
eating apple slices
and let the woman from another country
take us round the long way?
From A coat of ashes
Jackson 