-Valaney Valaun-
Twas eleven o'clock on a Thursday
And, by the ruddy red glow of the traffic light
I sat
Apathetic, like it.
And when I ventured to glance out of the passenger-side window
There you were, standing at the same light.
You were on foot; this didn't surprise me
I could see you were an environmentally conscious soul
Or at least unable to afford a car.
You wore a woman's jacket, beige felt and long
Though perhaps you didn't know it,
You were Russian-chic.
You held your head high
With close, black hair stark against the hazy gray November sky
I could tell you took pride in your sideburns.
You were thinking deeply
Probably considering breaking up with your girlfriend
She always was a skank.
You did not look back
When the light changed and the traffic surged forward, unthinking and obeying
You did not look back at the curb you had abandoned, now lonely in your absence
Or at the little red car that had waited with you.
I watched you as you walked, so straight and proud
And knew that the very air quivered with excitement at your passing.
I miss you sometimes.