when I’m out and about

when I’m out and about

the busy cars on the street

travel east and west each

in its proper lane in single file

at the same speed.

some are moving forward

to take care of business.

others snatch people from

the sidewalks to parts unknown.

the older cars speak to their identities.

the newer ones keep me guessing.

none are Nash Ramblers

and may they rest in peace.

It’s like another world out there.

the hum of rubber wheels.

the occasional horn of the cars

some with two doors others with four.

they stop and go when

the traffic light tells them to.

even the murderers stop

when told to do so by the mighty traffic light

which hangs from a wire above

swaying in windy conditions like a crazed Wallenda.

but the people are always silent when I’m out and about.