Red Light





Bad day at Delaware Park.

Lost the last race in a photo

and that was the day’s highlight.

Tried to outrun a hangover

with the hair of the dog –

no photo here,

Grey Goose easy winner.


Now I’m stopped at the

longest light in Wilmington,

chin on fist, hurting.

This guy pulls alongside,

one hand on the wheel,

the other choreographing

an adamant conversation with no one,

then I realize – the head-set thing.

Bad haircut and a headset.


It occurs what a contrast we

present the afternoon.

Him – impressing those both near and far

with his dialog,

his eyes showing an altruistic joy

with being so connected.

Mine –  bleeding and bored

to the point of letting my mind

wander into ‘Headset’s world’

and imagining his women,

profiling his importance.


He’s never out of touch.

On top and in control.

He provides that input

and direction that inspires.


Constantly pulling the strings

and mapping the strategy

of whatever Empire afforded him

this maroon Dodge Spirit

and un-ironed corporate-logoed knit.

The light changed and I hit it,

wanting to have a clear lead

at the first turn.


  1. The reader is brought into the imaginings
    of the speaker’s mind
    as he glances at the stranger in the next car.

    Much enjoyed reading.
    take care,


  2. Hi Craig

    Very enjoyable poem — very human and presented with fine thought and details that really emphasize the poem’s point/theme. I like the way you show the contrast between the narrator and the guy in the next car, you allow the reader to empathize with the speaker as if to say that at one time or another, we ourselves, have been at that traffic stop adjacent to the guy or woman in a cool car with a cool connection to his or her world and found ourselves thinking about them, waiting on a long irritating red. So much to like about this poem, but mostly the familiarity of a human experience that is deftly told through your voice.



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