i name bridges of every day
the morning commute is a bridge
connecting the comfort of my bed
to the grind of the pens that i push—
papers i fold
into model F-14 tomcats

a wife says to her husband—
i’ve got acute angina
the husband says—
yeah, and your tits ain’t bad either
a dirty joke is a bridge between frowns

draw bridges
cross bridges
burn bridges

sometimes saying i’m sorry
only bridges the moments of hurt
and of what’s unforgivable
sometimes it bridges the lessons i need to learn
in order to build better bridges
a bridge has been my friend
my enemy has been a bridge
thursday is wednesday’s bridge to friday
a glass of wine may be a bridge to a beautiful woman
but her hand isn’t necessarily a bridge to her heart

turning twenty was the beginning of a whole new bridge—
ten years long
shoulders wide
standing in the middle of the bridge of sighs
i can see a world of bridges i’ve left behind
la romana was a bridge i went over twice

la romana was a bridge i went over twice

i start off every bridge
carrying the baggage i’ve picked up on past bridges
being the sentimental type
i tend to keep the stems of wilted flowers
plucked from gardens paved over by so many bridges