Sunday, January 12, 2014

when we were just ordinary
workers
when we drive our car and
pass the river
over the bridge
we were thinking of nothing
but papers
and doors and itineraries

when we begin to ask why
is this thinking so confined
when we are beginning
to grow horns and thorns
we ask how cactus grows
so well in deserts and how
they even make tiny flowers

the next time we pass over
the same bridge
we notice new things then

the rusty posts,
the kite caught
the moss on the railing
a bird alone on the wire

and the memory of someone
who jumped over it and whose
name was never known.

well, something's changed.
you feel so light, like a bubble.

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