smokerings

[ river ]

Heading north on the river, north-
west, along the dappled grey, drowning blue
wheels against the concrete, wheels chasing bridges
against the sky,
To find the end of the bridge, and
to sail across the lovely, looming arches,
because it would feel like
riding through the air then,
weightless, curving across the earth
silent, lifted by desire and
at peace, at last, at peace.
Even as
we rode past the kayaks, blooming by the dock
even as the tree-sweet silence rose around us
even when we threw ourselves down, thighs throbbing,
wet earth, this corner of nowhere, some-where branches
glop and sink and spiders walk on nothing,

that bridge, I said to myself. I want to ride across that bridge.

Turns out I had been going north, all along.