I'm looking
for my reflection
in the shine of painted
crosswalk lines
and with every
changing
glow of the stoplight
my hope is growing
weary. I'm not
giving in
but I swear to you
New York is not the only place they
rebel
against the flash of a lighted
hand.
I was built to find
and call
a far more unconventional
place home
but until I finally have the chance
to run across this
reckless street
I'll try to find
something worthwhile
in what's left of these
plastic
paint lines.