• Emily Heilman

Overpass


Synthetic smoke carried up

over a concrete river,

walking on the bridge overhead,

recalling the taste of speed.


Passing boats in passing lanes

sending waves outward

on an artificial wind, acceleration

a consequence of sinking stones.


Memories of you, sailsick to windows

whizzing by, green seas of

meridian grass and large plastic

gas station cups among the weeds.


Jumping here means no splashing water,

no cool relief from hot blacktop feet.

Just passing cars, just passing news,

still a single ripple lost in waves.

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