Crossing through gridlock in an easy amble, almost seeing the steam from the drivers' ears, I mockingly conduct a horn ensemble. Running through fast traffic, feeling no fear, doing the dash stutter-step dance of danger, delighting in the thrill that I don't care, I laugh at cabbies' curses, flip the finger and, at the far curb, stroll away. All's fair-- this is a simple game to me, a sport to fill the empty moments. My rivals are nameless, but it's contact of a sort. Anything to chase away my devils-- at least jaywalking gives me the jump start I need on days I'd rather still my heart.
Copyright 1995 Edward Gaillard. All rights reserved.