SUBJECT>Saab Story POSTER>Bowen EMAIL>ashorama@aol.com DATE>1109357541 IP_ADDRESS>cache-mtc-ac04.proxy.aol.com PREVIOUS> NEXT> 83917 83918 83919 83921 83969 83995 IMAGE> LINKNAME> LINKURL>

Note: Frantic plea: Help!

Saab Story

It's in the comfortable dark
that her hand snakes and yanks
the keys from the ignition.
Everything stops.
He wants to leave her
in the ditch but a Saab
stops him--good Samaritan,
already dialing for a tow.

In the Saab's cross hair
headlights she slings the keys
to the weeds where we are
watching, surely, a rehearsal
murder. From our angle
his hand could be a knife,
her heart a gun.

Here the projector jerks, knocks
like a shot lifter. Lights flash on
their faces from hillbilly cops,
straight out of celluloid, swaggering
into the still, steamy, post-rain
road. The Saab's idling helpfully by
the center line, lights set

for stunning close-ups.
She makes a move in the dark,
a quick cop makes the shot,
and all the stars come out
for the denouement. It's loss
again, the Samaritan
too unknown to survive
the fade-away

to his credit.