Fog

Though the fog walked among the streets, our headlights kept us unafraid of disconnection; those two bright bulbs cracked through the clouds for a few extra feet of visibility. During these months, the car became more of an icebox; its heater had long coughed its last warming sigh. The precarious weather did little to help us escape ‘home.’

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6 comments so far

  1. sue on

    a lovely prose poem — fear of “disconnection”! how apt!

  2. mimosaeffect on

    I like the idea of the fog walking among the streets.

  3. Michelle Johnson on

    Hello Noah~ sad how families find themselves living in their cars. i can’t imagine how disconnected they must feel from the rest of the world. strong write. have a great day.

  4. Andree on

    This is really great. I can understand that feeling of isolation in a bad fog. It can be pretty scary. And the image of the cold car is just on target.

  5. shraddha on

    i love your view of fog! very apt..

  6. gabrielle on

    a beautiful and brave write – my teeth are chattering.


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