This could all be water under the bridge,
if we would take steps inward from the left,
and they from the right,
and if there was some swimming there on the meridian,
or maybe if there was no stop light here with the three fissures splitting us to oblivion,
maybe,
but these were lines of demarcation,
damning ones at that,
and I didn't like the sound of my rights being taken away,
of having anything less than I had yesterday,
and the day before that,
and all the days until the day I arrived,
we arrived,
and my recollection of bridges was the iron cast one from Castle Rock,
with the tracks,
and the running for our lives,
when we were worried about combs,
and fake real dead bodies,
I knew I could find that bridge,
but this one,
this one,
I had no intention of looking for,
and we were all getting a little too thirsty,
yet again---
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