the cyclist who says howdy just after
he’s passed to fulfill an obligation
but reduce the likelihood my reply
will add the burden of conversation
with a stranger
                           (i understand his desire
not to be diverted, nod though I know
he can’t see me)
                             the metal bridge clanking
all the way across this side of the Mississippi
when a bicycle whizzes by, and
the first time i turn to be sure
a truck hasn’t stumbled
onto the walkway
                              the waves
the waves the waves on rocks below
the river moving the cry of a gull
the memory fresh in my ears
of a train that sang its passing
as i stepped out to walk the river
and i am suspended now above it all
until i turn and put my foot down
on solid ground
                           make my way
to the Blue Cat for a Mississippi Mocha
Coffee Stout the last of this day’s sun
in and out of clouds on the horizon
night’s slow rising

Rock Island, Illinois, August 2012