He was in a crouched, downward position
at the bottom of the ocean and his
brain still worked for 21 seconds.
Dead and squashed down flat but for
21 seconds his mind still worked.
A man,
living in his own lap for 21 seconds,
seeing logos,
product names,
and his wife.
A trip to the museum. Being thirsty. Snapple.
For 21 seconds he lie in his crouch with a steering wheel inside him
(scream).
He surprised himself with 21 seconds of thinking.
"Wow", his mind said, through scrunched fingers,
gently at the bottom of the sea.
On the surface, the night front desk manager
at the Sheraton Smithtown
flipped through the company directory and panted.
The FBI were on their way.
While the pilot lay in the crouch, thinking in water for 21 seconds,
the world made phone calls and closed deals.
Out of all the things the pilot thought
in his 21 seconds of thinking in the calm deep blindness,
his cousin's stock in Sheraton International wasn’t one of them.
But if it had been,
and if his mouth were not engorged with seawater,
he might have died
after 21 seconds
with a smile on his face.
© 2003 Daniel X. O'Neil
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