We sat in the middle of a
crumbling bridge,
Our feet submerged in the
stream,
Kicking up puffs of sediment
from the bottom
Like underwater mushroom
clouds—
Atomic swirls of sand that concealed
the stream bed
Changing everything. Changing nothing.
We spoke of how shallow the water
was here,
But how it deepened further on.
We spoke of how the moon
seemed so close,
Although it was far away.
We spoke of how heavy the
humid air was,
Without a wind to take it
somewhere.
Within veiled words, we
reached out,
But our hands never touched.
When we left, we took the same
path as before,
Going back the way we came,
Our wet footprints evaporating
from the wooden planks
As we went nowhere.
