Boston
My feet burned the bridge.
Metal slowly melted, dripping
molten skin to the highway below.
The Texaco sign signaled destruction.
The pedestrians made polite conversation in the darkness.
The traffic was filmed in stop motion.
Emptiness burst into flame;
no one noticed
the screaming.
The next morning, my throat hurt.
My feet were black sootprints
washed away with the morning dew.
Metal slowly melted, dripping
molten skin to the highway below.
The Texaco sign signaled destruction.
The pedestrians made polite conversation in the darkness.
The traffic was filmed in stop motion.
Emptiness burst into flame;
no one noticed
the screaming.
The next morning, my throat hurt.
My feet were black sootprints
washed away with the morning dew.