Helter Skelter

He presses his face against the windshield of my car. I can see the soot that has staked claim to the lines of his face. It's a face that has been defeated by time but his insolent grin suggests a spirit. I try avoiding his gaze but I can't escape the disturbing presence. The face pressed against my pane is not looking for pity, it is looking for recognition.I distract myself, fiddling with the knobs of the car. I am willing the traffic lights to go green so the moment shall pass. I don't want to acknowledge his existence. But that stubborn gaze forces me to give in; I look him squarely in the eye.He is not really looking for anything. He is laughing at me, secure in his insane world. He has no green lights to wait on, I am the one who is running.