Driving In The Fog Poem by Molly Carney

Every car is an island
Crowned with a golden halo
Lush and glowing with the soft light of morning
Or a painting of dim shades from the past

I start as they jump out at me
Suddenly
Like a rabbit making a mad dash for his burrow
When you come upon him unawares

Every one with their brights on
Makes it look like we're driving through milk
Thick and frothy, white and non translucent
Heavy and impenetrable

Then they depart and the milk
Disappears
As if it was drunken up in one gulp
Leaving only trails of milk mustaches all around me

The red glow of their brake lights
Reminds me of Christmas and Rudolph's nose
Though it can also be like blush or fire
Or sometimes- sickeningly- like blood

Every car is an island
Crowned with a golden halo
I drift from island to island, languidly
Until I awake as from a dream
And find I am home