The Inevitable Change

The women I know

no longer

dress all in black

sip dark coffee

in poorly-lit

coffee houses

while someone

on a makeshift stage,

also dressed all in black,

reads page after page

of murky dirge-like poetry.

These days,

they wear bright clothes,

take milk in their java,

are unafraid to be

seen in the light,

and prefer their verse

to be uplifting.

I am pleased

for their gleeful dress sense.

their improved attitudes

and their happy circumstances

but I cannot

A Woman Hits My Car From Behind

It's no more than a fender bender but I ride

to the rescue like it's a small plane

crashed in a field, on fire, about to explode.

One broken head lamp, a dent or two in the

metal, but I see busted fuselage and

broken wings, flames leaping from the engine.

And she's more in shock than anything

but I have her twisted up inside the crumpled

cockpit, limbs broken, head bleeding.

I open the door and ask if she's okay while

imagining myself with one hand cupping the smoke

out of my mouth, the other working to free her.

She says it's nothing really as she stumbles

out, but isn't that the frantic arms around my

shoulders, the passionate thank you on the mouth.

It's a small thing but I've saved another life,

overcome another dangerous situation. She says to me

"Sorry I hit you." I cannot thank her enough.