An Architectural Digression

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The Bridge

The bridge looms large in my mind still…the bridge.

Stone saints dancing and dying along the bridge while streetcorner Rembrandts hustle amidst the fading pillars.

The bridge started so long away, spanning more than I pretend to understand, to take me somewhere I cannot go until I’ve been there in my childhood.

The bridge cuts through my dreams as I stare up at each chalk white face, each hard mouth whispering salvation to me.

So many figures line the bridge, so many faceless coats push and shove.

Yet on the bridge, I am always alone, alone with my ghosts.

The bridge…the bridge looms large today.

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