crosswalk endurance

you were a street he had to cross
and he was a blind student
with black hair, son of shadows
with a shadow hand; he knew magic
made of diamond stars, swirls of
black sparkles, while you hid in silk
he felt for your hand.

you were a street he had to cross
and he was a boy with a crooked leg
with cynics in his teeth and straw-coloured
forehead hair. the traffic he dodged never
slowed or turned but he said "life feels like
a remix." the crack of dust and the doom of
disease that his mother knew, it brings you
to your knees on the median.

you were a street he had to cross
and he couldn't think straight anymore;
a slanted blur of orange hand in your eyes
it seemed alright, it seemed alright to him.