Stoplights - a poem

I used to take joy

in crossing against the light

rushing to beat moving cars

as if I had somewhere to be

walking quickly, eyes straight ahead

each second I wasn't moving passed with dread

and the only moments I'd notice

were written in my head

if I hustled alongside the walking man it signified a loss

I craved the gratification of beating a machine

my strides never fast enough

disregard right now, focus on what will be

that me is still out there

she's rushing through time

in a hurry somewhere

to a destination that's no longer mine

I don't know when the walking man became my friend

a companion who allows me to take it all in

don't dwell on what's next, he tells me

since, well, the future doesn't exist

so now I wait for the walking man

for all the cars to stop

right here and now is my destination

we stroll together in mutual gratification