Watching Headlights

When I was a child,

I could let them pass me by,

For hours I stood,

In my doorway, didn’t know why.

 

The streaming flood

A zipper of light,

Seemed to want to

Scream right by my window.

 

I didn’t know anyone,

Just recognized reflections,

Meant another surge,

A new assortment of stranger.

 

If maybe life could be

Less busy then the traffic

Of our lives,

Might we freedom see.

 

For there is an ever pouring

Steady side to that surreal

Nature of understanding why,

We let them all go swiftly by.

 

And yet, it is the quiet nigh,

When that flowing circus

Of humanity screams alone

Until the amber signal’s cry.

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