Freshman year everything

What a shame, they’d say, those bridges burned

Such time wasted on intricacies

The ash and smoke of which would linger long after the smoldering heap had cooled

And vanished,

Choking with invisible hands the throats which breathed together

The scent of books and sweat and old brick buildings

With a twinge of alcohol on most nights

Making us feel sleepy and fuzzy and so much more sure

Even though we knew next year would come

And you knew decay was inevitable

But we told ourselves anyways we were resistant to flames


It’s not your fault, they’d say, that she turned out to be

So different than you’d expected

That she’d lit the proverbial match and made worthless all your efforts

And we’d believe them for awhile

Maybe even enjoy watching the dazzling flames

And inhaling their scent

The buzz of which would remind us so much of how things were that we could almost believe

They still were

Even after we screamed and I cried and you felt sick at heart

Maybe it still was

Maybe that – with time – was all we needed to begin to rebuild and re-carve and relive


But on the eve of my departure

Not too long before your greatest adventure, perhaps

Scenes sputtered and danced across the old T.V.

That sang you to sleep oh so many times that year

And I felt somewhere within my being

These words I now stammer to you in verse

The words that fan away the choking smoke that only served to burn our eyes

And cloud the cavities of the hearts

That would have, if we’d asked, told us all along

The beloved bridge had only concealed the spot where, briefly and beautifully, our paths entwine

Carrying us safely ahead