beyond that river:
a red balloon jumps in a little boy’s hand
and a diner sign reads breakfast for one dollar
this is home to me and I mean this;
if there were no bridge, no stone walkway to
that other side, I could never be that boy
across that swirling river
but it’s on this side where the shadows flee first
where the cars leak oil onto sidewalks and
ladies flaunt bodies and men their suit coats
here is where the youth end up
fake smiles plastered on with
a dash of regret
and it’s most days, for his sake,
I wish the bridge were out
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