At the intersection
of Thirteen and Sheyenne.
I'm heading West, him East.

I had a vision:
His motorcycle twisted
under my SUV
pinned to the asphalt,
pinned to the sheets,
Back flash to
the assault,
all my fault...

The light wasn't red,
but it wasn't green either.
His fault for being in
my moral blind spot.

We made eye contact,
mine stayed dry,
he broke first
and for a second time,
he ran the red.