I stood on the side of a busy road
on a winter evening, not many years ago.
The blaring red and white lights,
sometimes yellow or even blue
had me squinting in response
but I didn't move from my spot.
No matter how close the cars passed me by.
No matter how much the lights hurt my eyes.
And I was approached by some sort of ghost
who leaned on the guardrail next to me.
"Nice weather we're having,"
he said to me in a way of greeting,
and flashed me a smile of broken teeth.
A helmet damaged and hung down his back,
the straps still clipped together.
A **** in his skull bleeding down his pale face
and several bones out of place.
Could he still feel that pain?
Next to him was his mangled bicycle.
"Bit of a blind turn?" He asked me.
It was a rather difficult turn.
I nodded my head in agreement.
"It's gonna rain soon. You should get going."
The ghost continued.
"I think I'll stay," I replied.
The ghost shook his head.
"Listen, once that rain starts
you're a few minutes away from a tragedy."
I didn't reply.
"The minute it happens, you'll wish it hadn't."
the ghost insisted.
The rain he spoke of started to fall
and I remained where I was
leaning against guardrail.

"I'm not leaving," the ghost said.
"I'm not leaving until you go home."

"Well, we have only a few minutes now.
I'll be home soon enough."