I would like to buy your bridge,
the man said to me, carrying
a purple briefcase. Well, I said,
it’s not for sale. And he said,
why isn’t it for sale? And I said,
it’s where I go to listen to
disco. He put a hand through
his hair. Listen, he said, I’m
going to put in a traffic light.
A traffic light! I was the only
one who came to this bridge,
except for the fishes below
and the birds above, neither
of which needed to stop or
go — they moved as they were
wont, because, after all
they needed to live, and
I said so. They need to live,
I said. Look, he said,
I’m from the government,
and I’m for the people.
Well, I said, I’m a person,
and you are, too — you ever
cry with that knowledge?
No, he said, I’m very…
happy. I looked at him and
I took his hand in mine,
and we stood like
that, holding hands, while
the beat got louder and
louder, and the bridge
seemed to get longer and
longer until it really,
truly went somewhere.