And the light was there red: bright
above on the signs, dark on the wet road where
you walked across, home to your family &
the bus-driver said, "I'd rather have her on the bus
than you" but you didn't get on, you went
back home so he started up & drove away

& you thought about getting a job & what
you would wear & how to make sure Gary didn't leave
but you were sure of some things & you didn't
think much of poetry nor of politics, but I
can't say I blame you, my dear, for what
have they done to help?

                                                   Only did
you see that deep red stain & see
how it dances as you move? I think
you did, I think you did.