When the green lights turn red Is when we notice who is sitting on the benches
On the corner of Taylor and Cedar road
A man in a puffy mint green coat
He sits enclosed within three glass walls
The fourth one, an opening for others to join him You can still see his grey breath, even inside the small glass house
On the side of the road
When the green lights turn red Is when he notices us
On the corner of 117th and St. Claire
I sit in my car with a soft hum of verses falling out of the speakers
Warm air creeping through the sleeves of my cropped jacket
I'm sure he can hear the beat of my engine's heart
The sputtering of its oil, the blood of its body
I'm sure he can notice the sheen of its skin
I would much rather be sitting with him
I'd like to see my grey breath mix with his
Side by side in a glass house on the corner of North Main and Bell
When the green lights turn red
We all seem to notice
