The stop light intersection.

Winter poem , uncollected.

Red car, green car, grey car pass by the busy stoplight. In that intersection, you could imagine as the epicentre of the man in a hurry. So, bustling in day light, it makes me feel as if I am not going anywhere, worse it makes me hate it, as I hate airport crowds. I can’t help in obsessing in all the ways I could make it disappear. Maybe one day I will pour petrol all over the pavement and sit comfortably while watching all the cars skid in desperation. But I doubt that will work, when I see the black ocean that we spilled long ago in my backyard.

I stay on the porch searching or reminiscing something unknown

 Time passes, and the early stars start showing up, so the girl I used to love, hugs me and kisses me taking me back in for supper. She tries heartening me up like she regularly does: “We still have each other, come back in and lets one another for eternity”

With time I spend more and more time outside on the porch, not sure if contemplating or mourning, our garden that was busier than that stupid stoplight. Winter came faster than ever, and it got colder but never snowed. She stopped coming out for me, I think it must be two years now … Some more years pass by, and I realise I self don’t even come back for supper: “Anyways what is the use, she is not in there anymore. I really miss those Roasts she made for us”.

Outside is every time more different, I feel confused and eluded. “Have I stood here for a decade!? How stupid am I, letting time slide through my fingers!”.

So, I pick myself up and walk to the intersection, passed the black lakes, passed the abandoned towers, into the city of ghosts. When I get to the intersection, the stoplight was the only thing discernible, the rest was covered in all type of different shapes, colours, and scents. And then it all clicked, the intersection was finally making music, the circle complete. The petrol trap wasn’t even needed, or was it? I get closer to smell those green leaves, one catches my eye, a lonely Daisy.

“I hope that’s you Daisy”- I pray

-No response

Then I say to myself that everything must be fine, so I start walking again, past our house, past the backyard, down to the beach but I can’t find the ocean… I am surrounded by desert.

I continue, because anyways there won’t be supper with Daisy tonight. I might just keep on walking forever, alike the walkers in that stoplight intersection.