Tuesday, July 17, 2012

On the Corner

Fifteen seconds.

Waiting for the light to flip.

Cars fly twenty over, a hospital zone. A lanky young man, pants hanging low hips like a magic trick, bops to his silent music, fingers clacking, knees bending.

"X-rated, x-rated," another man, this one silver templed, peddles boosted nips of high-octane booze.

Across the street, a woman wavers. Already you can fry sunny-side ups on asphalt. She crumples, implodes inward slow-mo.

Cars stop. The white walking man says walk.

I cross. A half-dozen attend the fallen woman. The pusher makes a sale, and the bopping dude vaults through the cross-walk, a gazelle on speed.

Fifteen seconds on my way to work.



  1. Potent microfiction, Linda. I'm presuming I'm not allowed to imagine and apply my own happy ending to her existence?

  2. Alas, dear John... this is real life. But end as you please, though I did hear a siren as I approached my office. So freaking hot...

    And thinking of my favorite antagonists. Got quite a few in mind. Peace...

    1. Love the beat in this, the rhythm of the street, captured so beautifully.
      Lawdy, lawdy but you can write.