Flashing Lights

 
Everything filters from
bright to black,
to back to shining,
an urban dome mirroring
my mind. Crowds of thought
pushing me through the crosswalks.
 
It’s flashing lights again:
It’s a good sign,
It’s a bad sign,
one sign to cross, and one to be
run over by an all too eager soul.
In constant contrast of
white to dark, I can feel
stress on our hearts,
and I wonder if under
this mirage of beaming metals,
is this our final
moment of love?