one of them the little white glowing man from the "walk" sign steps out & crawls on all fours on the sidewalk. he's mystery flavor, which is probably watermelon. i'm eating white airheads from the porch & wondering if he's sticky. the red "stop" hand is looking for another palm to clap but doesn't find one & instead hovers & appears to be waving. a microwave timer goes off in the density of buildings nests, something's ready. i'm out there in my boxers looking for it-- hoping it's a bowl of dinosaur oatmeal. the timer goes off again, more distant this time. softer until it disappears. the walking man keeps a steady pace as if he's listening to a song & it's probably the same one the red hand wants to clap along to. a stop sign wilts so i water it with diet coke. the stop sign bursts gently into flames. i go warm my hands by it until one palm turns red & i have the need to tell people to "stop." i put the hand in my pocket. my pocket falls out, turns into toad. i follow the toad hoping he understands something about the microwave but he just leads me to a river of soda i didn't know we had. there's all sorts of white glowing men from the signs, they're bathing & talking in static noises. i want to be one of them. i wish i had a pocket to hide all the "stop" "stop" "stop" better. they watch me but don't have eyes so it's not clear how intensely they watch. the microwave floats by in the water but i can't make out what it had inside. they want me to walk into the soda river. the river changes colors: caramel, cola, clear, maroon. i dip my hand in-- all fizz-- an excited water. i laugh-- i glow-- i burn. the kind of burn all light bulbs learn to live with. my hand is cured & i wade in with my whole body. this might be how i become one of those glowing men-- i whisper "go" "yes walk" "yes you can walk" but the soda doesn't want to change me & the men don't like me & they gossip in their static. i go home & my microwave in the middle of the floor, not ringing but sobbing. i put my hand on it's head & say "stop"