Waiting for Green

Red. Green. Red.
The road below is deserted.
A slender man looms
on the junction.
Tall, guarding.
Like an inspector. Flashing
Red and Green.

Red.

I hold my breath.
Standing, watching,
the inspector blinking
while staring at me
with his hetrochromic eyes.
His gun on my forehead.

Green.
I gasp for air.

I check behind me again.
And again.
Someone’s touching
my shoulder.
Distracting me from
the threat in front.
I turn. Just to make sure.

Red.

My own shadow,
standing in front of me
with bared fangs.
inching closer.
I want to run,
to hide,
to scream.

Praying for the light
to turn green.
Gun on my back,
claw on my throat.

And sometime, somewhere,
the light changes color.

But I can never tell when.