A Discussion at a Modern Crossroads

Her:
They say true crossroads are hard to find now a days because they’ve all been paved.
Him:
*chuckle*  Hard to find?  What do they call this?
Her:
A “square”.
Him:
*puzzled*  Square?  It looks more like a narrow X to me.  Look, from there comes 7th Avenue, and there it crosses Broadway.  And 43rd Street there, 44th there, 45th there, and 46th Street there, all crossing 7th Avenue and Broadway.  How can it not be a crossroads?
Her:
They say in the South that only dirt roads can be crossroads.
Him:
I remember offerings to you at the paved crossroads of the Roman Roads.
Her:
Their memories aren’t that long.  I recall your stone pillars at those Roman crossroads, and that sign there, the giant, phallic, red one with the Coke bottle on it isn’t that much different, honestly, just taller.
Him:
Witches were hung in Britain at both paved Roman crossroads and the crossroads of the dirt High Roads, and people came to both to make deals with spirits and with both of us.
Her:
And musicians in the South coming to the crossroads to find you to make a deal for fame aren’t that different than those looking for fame by playing at the Hard Rock over there, or that naked cowboy playing his guitar down there.
Him:
The money spent, the pilgrimages to this crossroads, the busy energy, the greed for fortune and fame.  They’ve forgotten our names, the crossroads are surround by buildings instead of forests, clearings, and gallows, the roads carry cars instead of feet or horses, the materials for paving have changed, but can’t you feel it?  We’re still worshipped.  They still come to the crossroads to make offerings to us or make deals with us.
Her:
From the streets of Athens to the Roman roads, from the streets of London to the High Roads, from the dirt roads of the South to the streets of New York City, nothing really changes.  It’s all the same.  Only the names have changed.  They call it Time Square, but we stand here still, at the crossroads.