Day 2: Traffic Fight

A lot of nonsense about two traffic lights arguing. Italics and Bold show which traffic light is talking at each time and normal font is some form of omnipotent narrator. A poem for performance more than reading. - Andy

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Traffic Fight

Tall Technicolor traffic stopping triptychs
(Traffic Lights)
Stand on either sides of the road.
Both, old and metal, a little chipped in paint,
Showing green and then red and then gold.

Two silent wardens on a midnight street,
Patiently moving through their programmed motions
Of sequential colour, one after the other.
To avoid automotive commotion.

"Green.
Amber.
Red.
Green.
Amber.
Red."

“It’s a little bit boring”

One of them said
As he absent mindedly turned back to green.

“What do you mean?”

Said the second, seething with Amber

“We’re here to survey the scene!
To watch over roads
To protect zebra crossers,
To vigilantly keep to our pattern.”

“Yeah but it’s midnight
So what if I skip a light?
Do you think anyone will really notice?”


“We have a job to do! You can’t be serious?
You’re making me turn red with fury.”

“You want to turn red but you’re stuck on green instead,
It sort of undermines your authority.
I’m going to do it”

“Do what?”

“I’m finally going to do it”

“Damn it I demand an answer!”

“I’m going to choose what I’m forbidden to do..
I’m going to skip amber!

Green
Amber
Red
Green
Amber
Red.
Green.
Red.”

“Ah! We’re dead!”

“Don’t over react!
No-one saw!
We won’t be in trouble!

Don’t be reckless
You may cause a wreck
Just imagine all the crashes and rubble

We haven’t seen a car in hours
Watch this, the powers
At be will have no clue,
When I decide to go
Green
Red
Blue. “

“Blue!
BLUE?!
How did you?!”

“Amber and green mate.
Mixed em up,
You should try to create
Sometimes. You’d feel less stuck.”

“Less stuck?
I have no legs.
Just one long metal rustic peg.
I have stood on this spot
For years
A sense of duty keeping me silent company
Not this dread and fear.
Which I have felt since you’ve woken,
And another thing!
You’ve been there as long as I,
So why haven’t we spoken?
Throw me a frickin bone here man
I could have used a hand
On some of the cold winter eves,
All traffic stuck at home
Snowed in by a sudden quick freeze.
But you let me believe that I was alone,
The only one
To have been given the gift of tongue,
You could have given me a clue
You could have said”

“Oh look a car!”

“RED.”