Red Means Stop, Green Means Go

I sit up straight, 
hands on the wheel
hoping and praying
I'm an exception.

Drive, but not too fast.
If you drive too fast
someone might be scared.
It's a green light. GO!

Stop, but not too hard.
Why'd you hit your brakes?
Are you scared right now?
STOP! It's a red light.

Your nerves, they rattle 
just like the air vents
keeping you cool, cold
clammy when scared.

You drive, music playing,
but not too loud,
it might distract you
from the grip of fear.

You watch a car near
see lights, blue and red
siren calling you 
waving and luring.

It's time; You pull over.
Stop, but not too hard
Lights are red, aren't they? 
"License and regis..."

You've heard it before
in a scary story 
from a father or
maybe on the news.

"My license is there,
up on the dashboard"
you narrate to live.
"Where're you reaching?!"

"Are you talking back?"
No... wait...yes... wait...no
"How do you want me
to respond to you?!"

"You think you're special
but you're not; just a..."
A car drives past and
you beg but no help.

You cry but that sob
can't save you from fear,
the fear of the now,
fearful certainty.

You close your eyes and
wonder if this stop
will bring your cold end.
And what that feels like.

You open your eyes 
still at the red light. 
STOP! Remember Red
means stop; Not too hard.

You realize it was
just a terrible 
daydream turned nightmare
Green! Time to go! Go!

You breathe– finally–
A sigh of relief
Serve and protect is
not to be feared.

You go. The light is
green as envy. Go!
But a white truck runs Red
STOP! You scream and cry

You wake up, sweat drips
Tears in your eye, and
scream in your throat.
Was it a nightmare?

What killed the Black man?
Was it fear of police?
Why didn't White stop?
It ran red with green envy?

You don't have time to
wonder; time for work.
You see the grass gleam
it's green so you go.