Northbound commuters rush by
on my left, just over the yellow
line - my only defense. My bulb
blinks with the patience
of a reset clock. On my right,
southbounders continue their trek
to homes beyond the dashed
white lines and red lights.
Flanked by yellow lines, thin
barriers against the traffic's
relentless pulse, I rock gently
in the gusts, watching for a gap
to cross the stream onto
a quiet byway that leads
home.
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