Poetry: Cursing at Jaywalkers

Three girls, sitting on a bench

Cursing at jaywalkers

 

Don’t they see

The danger

That could come roaring

Out of the small-town darkness?

 

Why do they risk it?

Don’t they know that

Bad things happen?

Even here.

Even to the best of us.

Even to the strongest of us, the bravest of us.

 

They are asking for the pain

The three girls already feel

And the insult is too much

To watch silently