When I finally got to the truck,
we didn’t know where we could even drive.
No traffic lights, no anything, just chaos.
We didn’t even know what roads were broken;
if we could drive on them at all.
We’d heard that the upper deck of the Bay Bridge came down,
like the world was ending.
I even thought of driving out to the old mining road,
circling all the way around.
But you know what? I had to get where I was going,
and it took me all night, but I made it.
I look at him. Where? I ask.
He squints at the sun.
To Langley Hospital,
near Golden Gate Park,
to get your mom.