by Lisa Marie Popp
And when you showed me the Bridge*
in the morning,
and me leaning on the lamppost wiping eyes,
Nobody knew I cried
or would have cared anyway
slip on the water and fall
down the stairs in the hall
and the long line of chairs,
And when you showed me long gold hair on a Cheshire cat,
I knew God you had better plans than that.
*Belle Island Bridge. Detroit.