Pedestrian Crossing

April 17, 2012

Poetry

We are paused on a corner,
at dusk, 
in fading light.
He explains the 
chirping
is a crosswalk signal
meant to help the blind.
Then disregards 
the fact
the signal
 tells us not to cross.
Steps 
from the curb
,
the palm red,  open
high five,
 stop, don’t cross,
and 
I am faltering in short steps
stumbling along in heels,
we’ve stopped traffic.
His stride doesn’t change,
has an unapologetic gait,
confidence and age.
You wouldn’t dare
hit
 Fred Chappell,
crossing the street.

Melissa I. Hassard
every  right reserved

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About Melissa Hassard

"Inspiration exists, but it better find you working." -- Picasso

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