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