I feel as if I am never allowed to sleep. In the small hours of the morning, I might get an hour of peace and quiet before somebody walks in-between me or drags their tires across me. It is a never-ending job, and I am never in control of anything. The only thing that controls my life is the constant changing of the red, yellow, and green lights flashing in each direction. Even that guy, …showed first 75 words of 1052 total…

…showed last 75 words of 1052 total…going to rain before anybody else does. Just when I think that I would like to retire to a street with a lower speed limit, a man comes by and covers my old, tired, gray-white lines with a fresh coat of whiteness. People and cars remember where I am, and it does not seem so bad. It is a thankless job, but if I were not a crosswalk at a busy intersection, who would be?