PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

lit from the bar lights. So our faces

were more yellow than pink, oddly we leaned

on the guardrail for a moment. I wondered about

the differences between falling into a chasm

and a river were. I think you thought about the smell of charcoal and fish

coming from the right end of the bridge. Probably,

being peckish, still wanted me to offer to consume fish with you. Maybe

you were already sick of how my scales glistened

only in quiet lights. I don’t remember when you left the guardrail

I remember how cold metal and solitude

destroyed all of the alcohol we had drank that night. Alone at least

I assumed you were sobering up now also in search of a new metal to lean

your legs upon

I am still a lover of all languages but do not know

exactly what all of the pool tables are trying to get across

what am I supposed to write about

all of these skirts

surrounded vaguely by a woman. I don’t track the presence of those

who love me any more. Living life on this bridge

solipsism is just another bottle

and there are mermaids swimming within.