Urban Law
Tomorrow is “once more into the breech” day. It is the day to return to the office. Return to paper work. Return to the chaos that is Gigantic Concrete. I am not looking forward to it, as I leave the warm safety of family and home top return to the corporate jungle where the only law is the urban law…
…we’re doomed, of course, so I head for coffee…
Poem: “Urban Law” by Alison Hawthorne Deming from Genius Loci. © Penguin Poets.
Urban Law
Rush hour and the urban outflow pours
across the Million Dollar Bridge. I wait
for the walk-light, cross-traffic slight but
caution’s the rule when the city roars
toward all its separate homes. I get
the sign, little electric man, and step
into the street. A woman turns into
my lane, bearing down, eye-contact,
and still she guns it until I stare and
shake my head in disbelief at her
ferocity. She slows begrudged to let
me pass, runs down the window of her Saab
and shouts, “Why don’t you wait for the light?”
and flips me the bird. I feel weepy like
a punished child, mind sinking to lament,
What’s wrong with the human race? Too many
of us, too crowded, too greedy for space-
we’re doomed, of course, so I head for coffee
and a muffin, walking sad and slow on
the return. I’m waiting again to cross,
picking fingersful of muffin from the
paper sack and watching the phalanx of
cars race by, not even a cell of a
thought in my mind that I might jump the change,
when a man who’s got the green stops,
an executive wearing a crisp white
shirt and shiny red tie, and he raises
his palm to gesture me safely across,
making all the cars behind him wait while
I walk, and together at rush hour that
man and I redeem the whole human race.
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