Kurosawa’s White Witch

White faced woman white cross

Her withered eyes at the other side of the screen

Haunting my college days

Those nights in Turlington Square

Breathing in the clove smoke at midnight

Hop on the 34 thinking

How do you spell Kirosawa?

That old woman, her antique horror

From a nightmare I never had

Young minds in silence stoic no professor

White witch on the loose

For me those nights were hard trying to figure out who I was caring so much what people thought of me wanting people to envy my intellect everything was just a jumble it was gross gross gross

Light – hear the crackle

Smoke billows

The woman

She’s sitting atop the rock and my god that will stick with me

Vending machine quarters muddy coffee it’s something

Steady slippery cobblestone

The woman shuffles over holy ground but no preacher

His tin can’s at home – his cross is in pieces in the back of his Civic

At least he believes in something
The heart of campus

Buses usually bustle like blood cells

Tonight it’s quiet

I walk and the woman walks

Frat row chapel the bat house

People are sleeping the bats are up

Sonar screams pierce the night sky

And I

Walk alone except that woman

She hobbles in at on algae covered steps over down on concrete

Bumbling apparition

I lost her in the graffiti wall
There’s a white witch on the loose

But I lost her

My eyes don’t soak in images like they used to