Bernie spluttered his exhaust
and slowed to a white knuckle crawl
where little green men
absconded with the imagination
of the impatient driver.
Spit and **** splattered
across his windscreen
while children floated by
encompassed in clouds
of laughter and cheek.
Amber ignited dye
in his blue fog eyes
to mask his prehistoric thinking
caught in the juncture of
this one instant.
Bernie wished just once
he could jump the queue,
zoom ahead,
never look back.
He pondered the philosophy blaring
between the static of
his crackling radio
where it is better to plough
through ones troubles,
even if a shower of shattered glass
is the only way out.
Before he had time to evolve,
the red flashing man materialised
like a throbbing migraine and
Bernie delivered the catalyst like a baby.
Blossoms of future hope
randomly catapulted out of
the flickering intersection
of mortality.
Bernie careened propulsively
and hit the red man, who
in the slow motion of action,
lifted Bernie out
with a dotted lit hand
as if he was the angel of traffic.
An incandescent pedestrian,
Bernie walked across the junction
toward the beckoning red man at the
end of his own tunnel.
The little green man re-appeared
to click the endless passage
of time in micro seconds.
Bernie looked back at the
scintillating moment
and raged at the realisation that
no matter how sharply he veered,
some truths could never be avoided.