He stood on the bridge
(as he had so many times before),
turned to the west,
watching the sunset.
Colors shot across the sky
coming to rest on clouds now drenched with divine decoration.
Jets flew through streaks of gold and red,
headed for distant cities, unknown skies.
Below his feet flowed thousands of cars in a freeway frenzy,
fighting to get home.
The relentless flow of traffic behind him created a rhythm,
the blood flow of a city
coursing its way to nowhere, to everywhere.
He stood on the bridge,
(surrounded by millions of people),
watching the majesty of sunset,
and for one glorious moment,
he was
alone.

11/15/2003