the thing

It happens all the time and there's not too much to it. At the traffic sign I look at the traffic sign.
There is a car in front of me,
on the right the entrance to a cheap hotel, a young man steps along the pelican crossing.
The rotten sign sticks to red. To the left a girl who steps from a car. I hate to wait for nothing.
On the pavement tracks of sand go nowhere.

It happens all the time. Maybe the sign was not really there? Appartment blocks took the neighbourhood. Sky is limited to a soft touch of grey. I take a street to the left, at the end of that street
one more traffic sign,
again some cars in front of me and people asleep at the intersection. At first the neighbourhood looks deeply changed. A rotten layer colors the pavement. But nothing changed.