POEM - THE STOPLIGHT WAS A DEVIL

I’ve moved to this new place now
it’s in a nice downtown location
I have two small, awkward rooms
(I’ve always fit well into awkward places)
they have low ceilings
on which I sometimes hit my head
one I use for the writing and the drinking
and one for the reading and the sleeping
my two housemates are great company
there is a washer and dryer
and a fine kitchen
two bathrooms
a couple comfortable couches
and parking in the rear
there is nothing wrong with this apartment
and every morning when I walk outside
I look around and think, “yes. Here I am.”
but then I get into my car to leave
I head right out of the driveway
down the one way street
then left at the stop sign.
I drive two blocks
before I brake and wait at a stoplight
that has been built to bring men to madness
this fucking light simply will not change
from red to green
no matter when you hit it
you can be the first one on the line
or backed up a whole block
it does not matter
this stoplight changes for nobody but itself
after a few minutes
you begin to look around
and everybody else is also looking around
all with the same expression that says,
“this can’t be happening, right?”
drivers begin to tap on their steering wheels
and then comes the banging
the manic impatience
the fury and wrath of a mankind
that needs to move as fast as it can
has places to go and people to see
or in my case, dogs to walk
then finally, after minutes and minutes
the thing changes and I rush to make it through
thinking every time, “that’s it! I’ll never drive
through that fucking light again!”