Diane Cluck Follow

An ambulance at the crossroads
the crossroads in the city
and no one will let it through
though its lights are streaming every hue
and the bleeder in the back thinks
"This is the moment of my death;
I'm about to die in a traffic jam
and everyone's so angry at me
because I have the nerve to die right here,
because maybe they'll miss things at home on tv."

You are at the crossroads
the crossroads in the city
and no one will let you through
though you've waited hours in the queue
and the phone in your backpack rings, PICK IT UP, cause you'll be late
call your wife and tell her that
she should save you something to eat
because you're caught here looking at the blood in the street
rushing past the tires and the trash and the feet.