Urban Law
Urban Law
Rush hour and the urban outflow pours
across the Million Dollar Bridge. I wait
for the walk-light, cross-traffic slight but
caution's the rule when the city roars
toward all its separate homes. I get
the sign, little electric man, and step
into the street.
A woman turns into my lane, bearing down,
eye-contact,and still she guns it until
I stare and shake my head in disbelief at her
ferocity. She slows begrudged to let
me pass, runs down the window of her Saab
and shouts, "Why don't you wait for the light?"
and flips me the bird.
I feel weepy like a punished child,
mind sinking to lament What's wrong with
the human race? Too many of us, too crowded,
too greedy for space-
we're doomed, of course, so I head for coffee
and a muffin, walking sad and slow on
the return.
I'm waiting again to cross,
picking fingersful of muffin from the
paper sack and watching the phalanx of
cars race by, not even a cell of a
thought in my mind that I might jump the change,
when a man who's got the green stops,
an executive wearing a crisp white
shirt and shiny red tie, and he raises
his palm to gesture me safely across,
making all the cars behind him wait while
I walk, and together at rush hour that
man and I redeem the whole human race.
~Alison Hawthorne Deming
Rush hour and the urban outflow pours
across the Million Dollar Bridge. I wait
for the walk-light, cross-traffic slight but
caution's the rule when the city roars
toward all its separate homes. I get
the sign, little electric man, and step
into the street.
A woman turns into my lane, bearing down,
eye-contact,and still she guns it until
I stare and shake my head in disbelief at her
ferocity. She slows begrudged to let
me pass, runs down the window of her Saab
and shouts, "Why don't you wait for the light?"
and flips me the bird.
I feel weepy like a punished child,
mind sinking to lament What's wrong with
the human race? Too many of us, too crowded,
too greedy for space-
we're doomed, of course, so I head for coffee
and a muffin, walking sad and slow on
the return.
I'm waiting again to cross,
picking fingersful of muffin from the
paper sack and watching the phalanx of
cars race by, not even a cell of a
thought in my mind that I might jump the change,
when a man who's got the green stops,
an executive wearing a crisp white
shirt and shiny red tie, and he raises
his palm to gesture me safely across,
making all the cars behind him wait while
I walk, and together at rush hour that
man and I redeem the whole human race.
~Alison Hawthorne Deming