A White, White Fog
Did you see that woman with
hair like a white, white fog
standing with her back to us
with one hand on her hip,
looking at a child face down
on the pavement?
And you say, What woman.
And if I were walking, I would’ve
stopped to make sure that child
was okay, and possibly check
if the woman was okay, too, but
as we’re driving, every hesitation
just puts me a bit farther away,
and I say, You didn’t see her?
And you say your answer hasn’t
changed from last time I asked.
And I can’t really argue the point.
Now, if I were on a horse, I’d have
turned that horse around by now,
gone back to check on that child
on pavement, but because I’m
a passenger (not the driver), I can’t
turn the car around, which means
there’s so much distance between
me and that woman with hair like
white, white fog that there’s really
no point in thinking about it more
because location really is everything.
26 August/21: for Stream of Consciousness Saturday, a rambling exercise. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021