Meeting Poem by Martin O'Neill

I never knew you before Friday
Then I knew you intimately,
For, oh, ten minutes?
You weren't saying much
Neither was I, I suppose.
The noise made conversation difficult.
Also, the water spraying in my face
As I tried to put out the fire
That threatened to engulf us both
As your mangled car burned.
Good job I was passing I suppose.
I don't know if we'll meet again,
Or if you'd even remember me,
But,
I wish you well.
Good luck.
And I hope they save your leg.
My friends call me Foggy by the way.