Mist




An early Sunday morning
On a small street, Cerritos
In the thick curtain of fog
I walk alone.
Two lines of tall pines seen
One by one each time approaching.
A red moving spot faces
Toward me so quick
It becomes big and bigger.
A sharp wind blows
I pull my coat up.
Is this place safe? I ask.
Two big black eyes stand out
Against the white blanket
A blue thing adds below
Then a pink object above
In the smoky air, the beast dances
Keeps moving like a flash.
A theft, a robber, or a ghost What is this can be? Is it going to hurt me? Questions fill up my mind. No one here to save my life Sweat spotting on my forehead.
Am I dazzled? My heart beats race. I hold my breath. Ah! Black eyeglasses, I see. "Good morning, are you OK?" The neighborhood lady's voice I don't have enough time to react. She disappears in the thick mist!

Phuong Thao Le