The Sign
by Ted Richer
I crossed over.
She was on the other side of Boylston.
Snow was falling—
Traffic was light.
The sign was wound all round her body:
follow me!
“Where to?” I said.
“Into heaven,” she said.
I looked through the sign to her body.
“Where is that?” I said.
“Inside,” she said.
. . .
I crossed over, again.
She was still on the other side of Boylston.
Rain was falling—
Traffic was heavy.
The sign was still wound all round her body:
follow me!
“Where to, now?” I said.
“To our hell,” she said.
I still looked through the sign to her body.
“Where is that?” I said.
“Inside, too,” she said.
. . .
Later.
I crossed back—
The sun was out.
She was still on the other side of Boylston.
Published on June 3, 2013