poetry

city dreams, 1

We lived in a city of bridges

White bridges

Men in the dark river

Construction vests

Hard hats

Dropping things, dropping nails

It looked like a roller coaster, cables

Reaching never ending upwards

Arching into high rolling fog

Like evergreens on far off mountain tops

The bridges stood over the town

Looming

There were churches scattered like brownstone stars

Punctuating

But the city was cold

Distant

Sterile

No people

only you and me and the bridge builders, waist deep in dark water

In those hard hats

Dropping things

Like nails

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