intersection

In the twenty-four seconds
it takes for the red to green
chemical exhaust wafts subtly
over the pavement and sidewalks
invades the neighborhood
explores yards and gardens and lungs
settles in to work its mayhem
a gift from waiting motorists
who also entertain window glass
with the resounding bass thump
of their offerings to the stratosphere.

Perhaps we should reciprocate
with similar garbage and defecation
heap our effuse on their heads
stuff their lungs with poison
fill their chassis with fearsome silence
and the promise of more to come.

Once I charged a car that sped
down our child-speckled street:
I slammed my palms against the side
hard enough to startle and sway the car
as I was no small hunter facing elephants
but a giant scaring mice
which fled never to return.

One could do worse than take a stand.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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