At times I see them when I'm driving home from work on a back country road.
Glimpses of people walking across the path of my oncoming vehicle.
Legs and torso caught in mid-stride.
A disembodied head and shoulders, one arm waving as if to hail a taxi.
And then they're gone.
My car passes through them, past the places where they should have been, but weren't.
And I wonder if, in their time, in their world, in their moment, as they crossed their busy metropolitan street,
Or stood upon their concrete sidewalks window-shopping, they saw something too --
A fragment of a man in his car, hurtling headlong through time, a startled, curious look upon his face,
Appearing for a millisecond before vanishing into the city ether --
But they believed it to be only shadow, or mist, or a trick of the eyes between traffic lights,
And continued on without a second thought.