{Monday, June 4th}
something about water
something about a bridge
sometimes two futures collide
something about the grass being greener on the other side
and I can’t get it out of my head
that nagging feeling
yeah, something about a bridge that is supposed to yawn away
I can’t find it and don't even know if I should
I’m alone on the embankment, truly alone
well there are people here
something about strangers though really
there’s the bridge now
firm, dark wood, polished and yet with a film of light dust
unused, not a tread, not a footprint marks it
and it stretches into a green blur
and there I stand
the grass, the future, the swollen ruptured suture
the wound, I can’t fix, clean, heal or even feel it
guillotine drops and the bridge stays still
an age and a day, an age and a day
something about water
something about a bridge
and I can’t get it out of my head
something about a future with rotted sutures
that nagging feeling, the lack of healing
yeah, something about a bridge, something about a bridge,
and it makes me wonder is the grass really greener over
there?
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