Cross at Every Juncture
Who's borne witness to the waiting woman — who, as any in thought, had been reflecting upon this or that of no immediate substance, like how to avoid a new acquaintance's advances, stay out of his or her way, or what they might have for lunch, strategically if absently positioned on the side of the signal mast that would guard her left flank, when that truck from her one then two then three, which would spin the car that would pin her against that pole shattering her pelvis bone to bits, ran the red light she had abode — would say, whether standing fast or going ahead, always look at least both ways. The laws of the physical universe trump those of traffic.
Warschau/Grünberg - 2015
