loyd.net

In my childhood
We lived between the river and the lake,
Near the canal that connected them.
Down the street,
Over the canal,
Was a drawbridge that haunted my dreams.
Another, higher drawbridge
Crossed a little further away.

Countless times
We would drive across one or the other bridge.
Countless times
The drawbridge would open,
And we went off into the abyss.
Awake I hated crossing those bridges;
Asleep I was terrified.

After we had moved away
I heard on the news about the larger bridge—
The middle section went up with cars on it.
It was the type where the whole thing went straight up,
It didn't tip or tilt.
So nobody was hurt,
Though one car was caught on the edge and fell a little.

Years later, I dreamt of driving home,
Traveling down interstates and highways.
(Or was I driving away from home?)
The highways twisted and turned,
Went around in circles and split and merged.
I drove fast, faster, too fast,
And there was a bridge,
A drawbridge,
It opened, and I drove off—
And landed on the other side,
And kept driving.
Then another bridge which opened,
And another.
Each one I drove across,
Leaping and soaring,
Never falling.

Dreamscape X Dreamscape Dreamscape XII