Angels In The Fog

A poem by Greg McGee. 1/1/2019

(This is a true story, of what happened to me on New Years Morning, 2019 at about 1:20 A.M.)


Driving by a crescent moon.

A dark highway on New Year’s Eve.

The whole world at a party.

Except for James and me.


Suddenly all was whiteness.

Couldn’t even see my nose!

Then I saw some taillights.

A mountain of cars in the road.


Got my Chevy to stop rolling

With only an inch to spare.

We smiled at our good fortune

As a car took off the mirror.


The drivers face in horror

Another car shoved him past.

Then a police car flying by.

Landing, sliding fast.


There’s something strangely satisfying

In the sound of crashing cars.

A screechy, screaming, crunchy thud.

Then the silence of the dead.


There was whirring just behind me

on the slippery street.

I held my head to contemplate.

Is this the end for me?


Then came the first impact.

Then two or three or more.

Screechy crunching bing bang bam!

Like bowling pins in love.


Then the awful silence.

Silence . . . But.

No pearly gates or fiery lake!

Because I was not dead!


I looked around for James,

And he too had survived!

Maniacally we laughed in glee:

“I’M ALIVE! I’M ALIVE!”


We jumped and ran into the fog

Nowhere in this cloud was safe.

Steel monsters were still flying!

Smashing all over the place.


As I surveyed the carnage

And the weeping and the blood

Heaps of steaming metal

Boots crunching glass and mud.


A sleeping baby, in a car seat

Lights of amber, green and blue.

Shivering lovers in the mist

Whispering “I love you.”


A frantic fireman with jaws of life

Fifty cars had crashed!

But he found no takers.

Not a single life had passed!


Later I called my sister

To tell her I was still here.

She said she had been praying

Just this very eve.


And that she’d sent some angels

To keep me from all harm.

Well, I didn’t have a scratch!

So that worked just like a charm!


Wailing Sirens, radio chatter

The barking of a dog.

I wonder if my Sis had asked,

Could angels lift the fog?


I appreciate them, you bet I do.

Keep ‘em flying along the way.

But next time, ask them to lift the fog?

It’d save a lot of pain.

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