Eager to talk to someone about something other than myself, other than my dead dog, other than my inability to close the incredible loss that had opened inside me.

So, I went downtown, drove my car into the heart of the unaware, uncaring city and found a parking lot.  I left my car there, descended the grotty stairwell, with its odors of gasoline and urine, down to the street level, where I lost myself in a sea of humanity, became just a mote within it, drifting like a water molecule in a great ocean of water, unknown, unknowing, unremarkable.  No one knew me or cared; no one knew what I felt or cared.

Lost, I paused at an intersection, waited for the streetlight to change.

And I saw him again.

The sign said “Don’t Walk” in bright orange, and I stopped at the front of the crowd of people poised behind me.  The traffic sped through the intersection, and I stared dumbly ahead, waiting for the light to change, for the orange letters to become white and say, simply, “Walk.”

Across the street, at the other corner, a similar group of people hovered on their curb, waiting for their light to flash.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)