traipsing through cold air,
the welcomed numb.
Cape, she is bitter tonight, he thinks
as he smiles.
It extends, then it stops, almost at
the point of disingenuous.
He is almost there.
Crumbling tar like crumbled apple tart,
he stands and remembers.
Up on the bridge of his childhood,
running along, trying to keep up
Walking to the Hypermarket during
school holidays, K-tv playing the
The Everite sign, now long gone,
that factory that stood there
for years. What happens in there?
So close, so he touches it. He reaches
out, his hand going beyond
the air and the tracks below and
Car drives past.
They don’t care.
No one looks at the boy on the bridge.
Not until he climbs on the wall, sits down.
Not until he looks down. They see him now.
The pain was replaced with a graceful abstraction,
as he tipped himself over the edge.