"The River Bridge" by David Troupes

IShe leaves in the heat -- leavesthe pesky town, the children still gummedwith summer,those hydrants of bile,the cinders and glass, and the putrid dogs --riseswith the windows down and the air punchingaround her -- riseswith a rush of engine, a rush of mindpas the constriction, into the dilating cold, deliveredfrom the dregs of quotidia.IIGlidesthe bridge,rollsthrough peace,over the river'sglass teeth,as from the railingand the wind comesa welterof suicide.