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Passing
by Bruce W Niedt
Fog lies just a foot from the ground,
like some cheap theatrical effect,
in a deserted mall parking lot.
It carpets around ornamental trees
that dot a concrete archipelago
in a striped asphalt sea.
A young woman sits sullenly
on a point of cement, a corner
of the outer service road.
Its very late and somewhat unsafe
to be here alone this time of night.
You try to guess her story.
You want to roll the window down
and offer sanctuary,
but know youll be construed
as the very threat you wish
sincerely to prevent.
So instead, you pass on, your black vehicle
a footnote on the night,
while she pulls herself
closer to herself
and the fog offers a damp, cold shawl.
11/12/2002 Posted on 11/12/2002
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by JD Clay on 11/12/02 at 02:04 PM This is very impressive Bruce. Mysteriously alluring, pensively passionate, and marvelously metophoric. Left we worried for the woman and wondering how you continue to amaze us with your tremendous talent. Peace... |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 11/12/02 at 02:13 PM Sadly an all too common reality, especially in big cities, even here now in Canada. And you certainly don't want to be indetified by someone else as the last one to see her alive if she meets foul play. In the second line of the last stanza, did you mean to say footnote? |
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