Woman, man,
man, woman,
plaintiffs straight
as corn stalks,
formal as jurists,
knees pressed
together,
palms on thighs,
waiting, sighing
on a wooden bench
at a bus stop
aiming their blackness
directly at me,
a white guy
in a luxury sedan,
first in line
at a red traffic signal,
forced to face them,
corner eyed
“Hurry,
green
light!
Hurry!”
I am begging,
I am praying:
“Go!”