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East to West
I was driving East to West
On Route 202 late Sunday evening
It was 10:30 at night
Cold and rainy out
With a warm settling fog

The fog was low
And covered the street
Crept over the trees hovering over
My pavement path

The ground slick with dew and drizzle
My fog lights did nothing
I would just drift the car down the road
Around the curves and bend
Forming to the fog's tunnel

Then out of nowhere
And too late to stop
A man appeared in the middle of the road
A shadowed silhohette
From beneath the tree-covered road path
He stood still
I could not make out his eyes nor face
Too late to stop
I attempted to swirve
The car slipped and slid
Straight into the man
I hit

I waited around
For the police to arrive
I went back to the precinct
And talked and questioned
Sweated my palms into the wooden arm chair
Untied my laces and tied again

They knew the conditions
And saw the skid marks
Impounded the car
And photographed the thick scene
Wrote me up and wrote me down
Phone calls here and there
As the rain still sunk down

The police let me go
But I'm due back there later this month
What will I do
And what will I say?
The fog stood in the way
But no chance for him that night
Perhaps none for me
To hit again

 1999 David Greg Harth @ NJ->NYC @ 296 NYC