Broken Light

Broken traffic light at my corner this morning. You’d expect people to slow down—look both ways, be cautious, that kind of thing. Instead everyone there (drivers, cyclists, old woman with a crutch) did the exact same thing: crossed it fast, like the light was still working, like red was coming. It’s funny in an awful way.

The light is dead. There’s no red. But we don’t think about that. We just move through the rhythm we’ve been trained into, waiting for the color that isn’t there anymore. I did the same thing. I was in a hurry.