Pattern

The light post at the stop sign flickers in a pattern,

two long flashes, three quick dashes, then it stays dim for a minute and 13 seconds.

And even though I know that it's part of the pattern,

I sit and watch it come back on,

just so I know it won't be dark at dawn.

I notice the patterns,

but I don't trust them.

My mind knows what comes next,

but I have to see it to believe it.

I don't believe in a mystical higher power,

maybe it's because religion was shoved down my throat as a kid.

Or maybe it's because I can't in good conscience believe in something I don't know of.

But then to counteract that,

I know that going dim is part of the light post's pattern,

and I still wait.

I sit in my car and I wait for the pattern to start again,

my music plays for an extra minute and 13 seconds,

I avoid my chaotic home for an extra minute and 13 seconds.

I live for that minute and 13 seconds where I can stay still,

and wait for the lamp post to gain its light again.

So maybe, I don't stop to make sure the light will still be on,

maybe I stop so I can gain my light again.

Maybe I stop so I can breathe for a minute,

or maybe I stop for none of these reasons at all.

Maybe I stop because I don't want my mom to yell at me again.

Maybe I stop because I can't take another minute of sitting in my room feeling unfulfilled.

But when people ask me why I stop,

I'll probably just say that I'm waiting for the light to turn on,

and that it'll only be a minute and 13 seconds.