Punctuations, exclamation marks of impatience
as cars argue over who can merge into the lane first
a police car peels past the mimed conversation
of angry drivers, waving hands
to stop only a few feet away
the black clad cop, clenched jaw
frozen behind the wheel

There’s a bicyclist on the pavement
eyes closed, resting on his back
as the wheel of his bike bends haphazard
to nap in front of traffic
a car with a dented grill
and several bystanders, speaking in silence
someone kneels and touches his chest
to exorcise the spirit
from a still body
but a twitching foot
a restless jitter
a rupture in the morning flow

I pass them like a picturesque scene
from a train window
but the screen refracts
the scene of the crime
the searing sirens, flashing lights
the death montage
across my skin
long after I’ve crossed the street

I close my eyes
to think of anything else, otherwise.