Tag Archives: bridge

by David E. Booker

I stop on a bridge to admire
the ragged setting sun.
Clouded by days of rain
and a night of snow,
like me, it was
recovering.

A car passes and
college voices taunt me:
“Jump!”
Then a pickup truck
and an old, lone voice:
“Jump, motherfucker!”
and a cigarette butt
bounces off my shoulder.

What touches the body
touches the mind
and what touches the mind
touches the world.
I was ill and then I saw illness.

Some days I say, “Stop the madness.”
Then I realize I am the madness…

…of one glorious sunset
and a thousand broken souls:

admirer of one,
curse of the other,

and my heart is often
not large enough
for either one.