/ Traffic Lights

I’m walking fast towards the Minories, on my way to work. I pass the dark construction hoardings and scrubby park across the road from the Tower and slow as I approach the traffic lights. Red man. I press the button and plant my feet, drawing my cane upright against my chest, hands resting on top of the handle. A classic pose.

I look at the people waiting on the other side of the road. I watch them watching me. What do they see? A man, long coat, black cane, black boots, Steve McQueen sunglasses. Sexy stranger? Poor, deluded blind man?

I feel conspicuous. Exposed. I resist the urge to look around me. Why? Because those who are watching would not approve, I imagine, of a blind person who can look, gaze, stare, watch, see. Fuck it. I shake my head, look up and admire the sky, its blueness.

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