At the Crosswalk

At the Crosswalk


Why are you standing here?       Why are you standing here?
Blah blah blah.                            Could’ve crossed the southbound with the light,
Blah blah blah                             Then crossed over there, to keep moving, y’know,
Blah blah blah                             I chose to rest my pounding heart and feet here.
Waiting for the cars to stop.            Blah blah blah

Where are you coming from?      Where are you coming from?
Blah blah blah                             My mom is from the west, Scotch Irish.
Blah blah blah                             My father’s a South Boston man, Dorchester.
Blah blah blah                             I’m Manhattanite in my soul, thoroughly.
From that building, over there.        Blah blah blah

Where is it you’re going?            Where is it you’re going?
Blah blah blah                             This Island’s always home, but I wish
Blah blah blah                             To see God’s world, the oceans and continents,
Blah blah blah                             Their men and women: sing their songs, taste their foods.
To that corner, just across.              Blah blah blah

How do you see yourself?          How do you see yourself?
Blah blah blah.                             I’m an egocentric scophophile,
Blah blah blah                              I love the sight of me, though suppose I could,
Blah blah blah                              With practice and faith, be a better neighbor.
With makeup, in the mirror.              Blah blah blah

Cars are stopped.                        There’s our light.
We should walk, no?                    Go together?
Good day, stranger.                     Blah blah blah
Blah blah blah                              Farewell, old friend.