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.