Traffic Lights

By | 1 July 1998

At traffic lights
is where I notice a man
waiting in the outside lane
for the same light to turn green.

Sitting with a stiff shirt,
licking upwards on his moustache,
gold at his wrist and
his rear vision angled on his hair.

He is watching and clutching
the blond pedestrian that passes infront,
but when she’s gone around the corner
his mind is a wad of bills again.

At traffic lights
on the road to the same town
is a man that makes the world
so heavy to turn.

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