montclair

he stands at the corner

waiting for the cars to stop

remembering accidents here

worlds colliding

and how much time it took

for the ambulance to come

lights aren’t the only thing

which change color

he says aloud

the red and blue whirl wind

fresh on corneal canvass

still wet the edges bleeding

ear drums pounding

the interminable silent rhythm

of each step

since the moment

oceans turned to blood

a blue man says

keep moving

first one foot

then the other