Tap to trickle
Trickle to torrent
The shower camouflages her tears as she stands in a puddle-filled pothole
Straight white painted centerline
Deteriorated fuzzy with age
Cuts between her feet and disappears into the misty distance
Of the mile-long bridge.
Just one mile? Is that good? Bad?
She pleads no contest, can't decide.
She could be anywhere
Literally anywhere
Tossing sponge rocks into the stream on a warm summer evening
On a short rickety bridge made of beat-up floorboards
Teetering on the edge of rope in lush green hopelessness
On a curved rickety bridge stretched and gutted cross-canyon
Taking shallow breaths of wonder in the Old World's sinking city
Under the age-old arch of stone and bathed in twilight.
She could be anywhere
Literally anywhere
But she has this
Pitiful gentle giant of a bridge
Deserted by the good people of the empty city behind her
A heaving bulk of great mass
Swaying, groaning, chipping, rusting
Rain pushing it inexorably toward the rapids
And she steps
On the bridge
In the rain
And she's back
THERE
As two eyes peer at her with fleeting sadness
And perhaps a flash of pity.
