The wind hovers over ourbodies as we lie aimlessly over the bridge. There is a world below us. Awake. Alive. Alert. A train goes by in the distance. I want to walk away from it all, into something I don't know. Run away from existence.
You seem indifferent. Happy. Stoned. Impassionate in the sodium lights on the empty bridge. In four hours there will be the thundering hordes of humans who will take this bridge over. There will be no place left for dreamers like us. But we'll be sleeping then. We are creatures of the night, you and I. We loathe the harshness of the sun, the typicality associated with the day. We prefer the darkness and the sodium lights.
"I need to go home" I say. You look at your watch. "But its only three", you say disdainfully. I cross over to the other side and light a cigarette. Today's fourteenth. I watch the splinter glow over the darkness of the river and the lights of the train going by, in the distance. Trains go by and come in all the time. People get in, get off. Porters, creatures of the night, like us, load in and unload. The whole of humanity seems to have a mechanised raison d'etre. Born. Live. Die.
I contemplate jumping the forty feet between the water and me.
If you twist and turn away
If you tear yourself in two again If I could, you know, I would If I could, I would Let it go Surrender Dislocate
There is a strong wind from the sea. My nostrils flare up as moisture from the oceans floods them. I look back at you, the wind carrying the sound of the sea into my ears. I look at you looking up, hungrily at the moon, in a trance.
If I could throw this
Lifeless lifeline to the wind
I'd leave this heart of clay
See you walk,
walk away
Into the night
Through the rain
Into the half-light
Through the flame
I look up. Its a clear night. Stars and all. The whole universe has conspired to make this moment. You and me. the river. The bridge. The murky waters. Trains rolling by. Sodium lights and an empty bridge. The moon. The stars. The galaxies. This planet. Zillions more. The sheer astounding numbers. But this moment makes you feel like a tiny speck, part of an infinite masterplan. A tiny bubble in the wave. Programmed to exist for a second.
Form. Float. Explode.
Born. Live. Die.
I look up, look down, look around. It does not fit in. It does not make sense. It seems to beautiful to be true. The steady yellow light. Distorted reflections on the ripples. The mad wind.
"Fuck. Its the cop" you say throwing your cigarette away. A jeep parks itself next to us and the cop asks us to get lost. And that is what we do.
Reflections? Questions? Rant? Answers on an empty bridge in the sodium light? W'll be back some other day, before the sun rises.
