Intersection

Stop To peer at the greying, Stolid faces Hand-baskets scooting In rows to carry them away To their own personal hells Exhaust saturating senses Senses of want; of color It is all apparent Mothers lean out of windows To catch the world In fleeting pieces Boys young and younger Dreaming to be heroes, Lovers, and rebels The chance that might Be, vanished as the light turns Red to green and back again