The Longfellow Bridge
The T runs down the heart of the bridge. The cars shake in the dim light left by the dregs of the day. May-green trees and May-green weeds shine, still slick and fresh from rain. I walk on the edge of the bridge by a low stone wall. The rainfall slows. The Red Line train is gone. I walk and walk.
First published in Residual Heat under my pseudonym Aga Black.
Longfellow Bridge detail (2007). Photo by Paul Mison. Used with permission.