cars went past, paused
obedient to traffic lights
suspended lidless
Based on the passage, “Again in brilliant sunlight he walked westward down the main street of the town. Cars went past or paused at intersections, obedient to the traffic lights suspended between poles, the lidless glare of red and green, the momentary blink of amber, relaying the orders of some central brain, peremptory, electric, and unthinking.”
In the novel, Jordan County, by Shelby Foote (Dial Press, New York, 1954).
You can see it can’t you.
Cars stopping, pausing.
Obedient to the lights suspended between poles.
The orders of some central brain, peremptory, electric, and unthinking.
I have long thought that the first signs of the revolution would be when folks started to just ignore traffic signs, stoplights, four way stops.
The basic part of everyday, that requires cooperation, playing by the rules.
I always thought it would start at the bottom and work its way up.
Never ever did I think that the rot would start at the top and work its way down.
Another lesson from nature and our own version of acid rain.
No Haiku For You 