a resurrection of sorts

I drove on a freeway over hills I've traveled many times before, mostly a passenger. The car had driven me small distances around town, to an airport once, and once home from one. The sun dropped over the mountains and at moments split the space between the visor and the car in front of me. It was blinding, but for only seconds. A song on the stereo full of f.m. static I've heard and danced to before sounds different. The passenger let trails of smoke from her cigarette sweep out of the rolled down window. The thought, then the smile on her face, her legs crossed in an easter dress, the very yellow rays of a sunset everywhere. My arms, half covered, tried to steady the steering wheel and take this all in. Somewhere someone is thinking of their savior rising from a grave. Me, I'm taking a picture and hoping to escape my own.