down the drain

i saw a dead man once
on the pavement, for a split second.
i was in the car.
if we’d turned the corner seconds earlier we would have seen him fall.
it was in the moments before people rushed to the scene:
i wonder if he was actually dead, or dying, at that moment?
i saw blood on the pavement.
we did not stop.

my day, my plans, did not change
and later that night, you confessed
you saw him fall.
you did not stop either.
i didn’t feel quite so guilty afterwards.

it was in the paper the next day.
they think he was pushed.

days later, I noticed they jet washed his blood stains away.
down the drain.

~r.j.m.