I painted my fingernails this morning.
They look even fresher under the traffic lights. Right now,
There’s nothing but the whizz of my car
And the bellowing echoes of my thoughts.
A pitter patter of summer monsoon
LEA 3303 is moving at a snail’s pace
Not that I’m in a rush.
But I like rushing,
The panic silences
The magnitude of my thoughts;
“You are alone. You are alone
You are alone. You are alone.”
Red, yellow, back to red.
I’ve skipped so many greens.
I feel like
an overused and beaten old car,
Rusty on the outside;
Ripped and torn inside.
Women hold their purses closer as they cross me Men point and laugh –
That’s all I’ve done all my life.
Waited and grown rusty.
Waited for someone to arrive,
And maybe take pity
And paint my exterior anew,
Sow the rips and show the world, That I’m as good as new.
But I’m not.
I am alone at the signal,
Between the gas and break.
Artwork By: Anjum Alix Noon