Little Girl

Shopping at the Estepona

mercado with Charo.

Incredily, another


the same day!


The ambulance’s white handerchief

stops flutteirng next to us.

Across the street a structure

I’d never recognize as

a hospital.


Two armfuls hastily

unloaded – the infant

more seriously hurt rushed

into an interior room.

Cries from behind open doors.


His 4ish sister

left. . . unattended. . .

alone on a foyer bench.


We stand, armed with food

stuffed string bags


Outside the open door

looking in,

Staring in our own immobile


Everything within me says

Hold that little girl.


Of offending my host country

Having no language to explain myself.


I do nothing


My soul

an accident victim. . .



This event along with the accident on the road to Marbella were traumatizing experiences. I was a highly anxious passenger both in cars and airplanes for many years. At the time I began to work through the trauma by concentrating my attention on college courses that would prepare me for a career in a helping profession. My initial goal was to be involved in the newly emerging hospice movement.

End notes – The collage papers are scanned images of my green string shopping bag from Spain, a photo of me circa 1950, and photos taken at the Presidio and Governor’s home, Santa Barbara. The photos of the door and bench look  remarkable similar to those I remember in Estepona.