fenders

the crash is a small one.
fenders mostly, a dent.
a scrape of paint
off the side.
no one is hurt. nothing
to write home about,
as they say.
in the rain, they stand
huddled, while the blue
light of a police car
spins and spins.
it's early. everyone is
late. it's a small accident,
and everyone will
go on with their
day. no friends are made.
no one's fault,
no epiphanies other than
wishing one had left
earlier, or later, or
gone a different way.