Bridge

i burned a bridge a long time ago


it was made of wrinkled steel, pearl dust marble, and 
tainted silver to hold trailer trucks, coast to coast


grizzled drivers kept their eyes on the mirror, cautious
while some young guns weaved in and out of the lanes


unaware of mortality by the next curve, or pain
from a missed turn, it always happen everyday


i heard it on the radio, a collision or an accident,
or i passed by along, coldly detached, shaking my head


at my high car insurance premium bill,  price of gas, price of living 
in this city of cement, where a second or seconds too late


may mean a difference of going to my office on time, or
getting crushed by fast lane, fast food and endless lists 


of things to do, whistling car noises cut my reverie of words
rolling from my tongue, i kept trying to remember their taste 


did i give you a good-bye morning kiss, or said i love you 
yesterday or maybe the week before, i don't recall anymore  


while running after work deadlines, striving to earn points,
pacing my goals one green light at a time, i 


turn to look at my blind spots, before I switch lanes
to another bridge,  I see, I see

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- Awareness of the Experience , hosted by Sheila Moore. 
Roads and bridges speak to me as I drive to my office morning and afternoon.


Photography by:   Walter W Smith

Phone: 864 – 569 – 6533
Email address: seeartrun@yahoo.com
Artist website: www.newdigitalscapes.com
Art blog: www.walterwsmith.wordpress.com
Online store: www.newdigitalscapes.imagekind.com