Jaywalking

This is when the old and the young, beasts and confraternal drunks damn the consequences of death lying porous on crossroads upon bifurcated paths, fractured junctions and ceremonial cul-de-sacs... The time is immaterial, so long as the traffic lights — the veggie-green, the claret, and the urine-amber —choose their slow blinking and rapid-eyelid movement carefully. And moon might decide not to power its own light. Tenebrous tracks then fill our eyes with the age of sea monsters blinded by charcoal waves. Need I hail the neon signs of bordellos! And the city’s restless constellations! They sparkle with rage and with the brio of rioting stars, thus adding celestial films to our already overloaded eyes.... But that’s another story. C’mon... we are no Deer or Asahel descendants! Closely related to sloths, millipedes and snails, we drag our feet, which in turn drag the volumes of stupidity in us, aggravated by drams and midnight parties held between a flowing weekend and a stagnant Thursday.