“MY TURN TO CROSS”

The crosswalk light glowed white.
It was my turn. I stepped out
and immediately was greeted
by a turning mail truck.
“WOAH! WOAH! WOAH!”
I shouted, running around
the gait of the big wide turn.
After I was out of his way,
I turned back and shot the driver
my look. And he looked terrified.
He’d almost delivered something
far ahead of schedule
and without proper postage paid.
I turned back around
and continued on my way,
skipping to the other side.

narrative poem written on 02-17-2011 by: on mattkane.com
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