the light won't
change.  It's cold
and I feel my
stomach rumble with
the times.  Somewhere
my past self
is tucked up beside
him, asleep already
wrapped in her current
state of affairs.
Future me is on
a plane. with peanuts on
her lap, sipping
ginger ale on
her trip
to Whatever's Next,
But now.  
As the cars
go, I'm still here
and it's still
not changing.
And as I ****
up my breath and
face into the wind,
I cross and
hope that neither
cars or
the whims of
fate hit
me too hard.