I wipe my hand against the foggy glass.

The maroon mocks me.

If I were walking, I would

Climb these metal arms,

Ask them to hold me close

Before throwing me off the edge.

 

When I was younger,

My relatives used to throw me

Around the pool like a ball.

The anticipation before the splash

Made the whole game exhilarating,

And terrifying.

As I soared through the air,

My stomach hugged itself tightly.

 

Let the bridge hug me the way my stomach once did to itself.

Let the bridge hug me the way water returns to itself after it splashes.

Let the bridge hug me the way I wish my family still would.

 

Let the bridge release me into the water beneath.

I know how to swim.

I hope I will not need to.

 

But I am driving from a city that does not yet know me

To a city that knows me too well.

I am supposed to remember the good things.

 

Maybe I will experience more good things.

Maybe the good things don’t matter enough for me to stay.