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Arguing at the intersection

“Can’t you fucking see they’re waiting for us?
Can’t you see the light is green,
but the van refuses to move?
Why are you just standing there? Here?
We can cross!”
I rush my legs to catch this thought—
The light flicks red against the hood of some other car
and I feel my heel trip in air but escape the oncomer—
Mom walks, some paces behind, within the traffic,
head held high and I begin to realize
I’m not the only one on this road.

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musings & scribbles