walk don't walk, drive don't drive, look, don't look. love don't love. she stared at the changing signs right there in front of her printed eye, both of them, as long as she was there on the outside, waiting for something to happen, something that could move her further, along, away, and yet she would never leave there, where she was staring down broadway, at all times, glowing at night, focused during the day. she was not really seeing these signals at all, her image was, something that appeared to be here was, something that was made to look like something that could probably be mistaken for her was.
she did not really think about that, at all, she did not really see broadway, or the lights or anything really, not even the lens anymore, not even the lens, the one that cast a reflection in her eye, the reflection, long gone, removed, replaced, by one that made her eye more inviting, or the image of her eye, the eye that saw but not the walk don't walk, just the move, don't move, the blink, don't blink, the smile, don't smile.
and there were four of her, layered, thinner than paper, right here, this second, and yet in thousands all over, and then not really...
she was asleep.