My friend, Elisabeth, and I are driving.

We do this often, her and I.

She’s a year ahead of me in school and we are best friends.

She is blonde, but bleaches her hair brown.

We’ve danced together for years at my school, and her final recital

Is coming up soon.

She leaves for college in a couple months, many states away,

But for tonight --

We are here.

We are driving.

We know these streets well, in the city where we grew up.

(I say city, but it’s a town).

We know the streets though, and the landscape --

We know where everything is.

Which makes this a surprise.

We have been driving, and driving, and suddenly

Mirrors, to both our side,

Reflecting the moon.

We seem to be on water.

She sees it first;

I am concentrated on the road.

She exclaims.

I ask.

She points.

The countryside is all glass,

All water,

All mirror.

All impossible.

I keep driving, because what choice do I have?

Peel off the road, into the water?v Stop?

I keep driving.

The mirror continues.

The next day, I cautiously bring it up --

“So, Elisabeth, was there anything weird last night?”

She makes fun of one of the jokes I made,

But doesn’t acknowledge the lake.

I ask more directly;

she thinks I’m joking.

I’m still not sure what it was.

How it was.

But I remember it clearly --

The way the moon reflected,

How the stars seemed clearer,

How the air felt fresher as it filled up my lungs.