While Two Boys Cross the Street, Holding Hands

In the middle of the road

an hour or so before midnight,

and there's nowhere else I need to be.

Going somewhere in a hurry kept

brushing past my shoulders

while on another's, a hand, levelled

with a one-way sign mocking

the lone cigarette butt swimming

in a puddle of waiting, sending me

back from across the window

to another time of receding lines

in the middle of the road

an hour or so before midnight.