The Bridge
As the rain falls on my face I walk just a little faster.
I'm hurrying to get home and get out of these wet clothes.
I stop and look around before entering so I'm not seen and followed.
Once in my little nest I strip off my wet things and get into dry clothes.
I can hear the rumbling of cars as they race by on their way to wherever.
I daydream about the young family that might be on their way home.
I hum a little tune as I open a can of meaty dog food.
The wind blows my hair back as I take a plastic fork and start to eat.
I look up and read the graffiti someone had spray painted on concrete.
A cold tear rolls down my cheek as more cars rumble overhead.
I wipe away the tear and remind myself that my house is also a bridge.
I tell myself that a bridge is just a way to get from one place to another.
I cry.
Written on 12/4/15
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