The corner

© 2016 Lyf Stolte

You wouldn’t know it to look at it. That’s the whole point. I mean, if every person who looked at it saw what it really was it would lose it’s power. If it lost that the whole corner would be in jeopardy. You see, it was linked to several others who, likewise, couldn’t properly be seen. The funniest part is, they wanted so desperately to be seen. How hard it is to be at the epicenter of a city; in the heart of a pounding, driving, racing, humping city, and not be truly seen.

The sun rose slowly, the edges of it’s vision just barely touching the impotent fountains. The first one there greeted the sun, but no one saw the greeting. No one was alive yet; not that those who ever bustled and hustled through this square were ever really alive; there was the odd one, the odd delightful soul who carried the tiniest of shimmers through the otherwise dull hump of the crosswalks.

“The cross sign is on for all directions. The cross sign is on for all directions.”

But no one crosses yet. No one is there yet.

The second one travels carefully, being sure not to step on any cracks so as not to break any backs. It’s true you know. You don’t know whose back you’ve broken, but the second one believes it and if you believe something hard enough, well, you just have to be careful what you believe. The second one greets the morning; they are more concerned though with the proper arrangement of their space. It is theirs. They’ve had to fight many times to keep this space. Of course, they aren’t aware of the help they’ve had; they aren’t aware of the importance of their occupancy.

“The cross sign is on for all directions. The cross sign is on for all directions.”

I wish I could say something remarkable about the third. I wish that there was something remarkable about them. Well, maybe that is the remarkable thing: there is nothing, not one thing, remarkable about them. They come, they look, they nod, they sit. In a city, in a culture, that thrives on everyone looking differently the same, the third doesn’t stand out like a sore thumb. It would be disastrous if they did.

“The cross sign is on for all directions. The cross sign is on for all directions.”

A fish out of water wouldn’t curse as much as the fourth one does. An angel caught in hell wouldn’t weep as piteously as the fourth. And, most importantly, a person in this city wouldn’t see the fourth if it would stop all the wars in the world; for all the wars in the world are still better than the alternative.

“The cross sign is on for all directions. The cross sign is on for all directions.”

They begin to cross. They begin their daily struts, saunters, humps, walks, and strides. Never looking, never seeing. It wants to be seen. It really does. Let us just be thankful that we can’t see it. The world would be in the most serious jeopardy if it was truly seen.

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