Madonna

Already weary of the store windows
I notice an old woman
framed in my windshield
for the moment of a traffic light
at a dark November corner
in a surge of early shoppers.
She is no shopper.
Her unseasonal white shoes 
her transit pass 
her worn daily bag are clues
on which I build her story
much as we build Bethlehem around
some words that fire the imagination.

As close as the end of my arm
I am as distant from her cold wait
as the comfort of a warm car
where the stereo gives the Christmas songs
“concert hall quality.”

I imagine her going home now
from a day of laundry and late dishes
to needs open-mouthed and unattended.
A grandson, say, with some desperate story 
needing her few new dollars.

The light changes and
I move deeper into winter 
a Madonna disappearing 
in my rear view mirror.

John McNamee 
Clay Vessels, Sheed & Ward, 1995

return to 8/12 CPF Newsletter