When it rains, the bridge on Madison Street near the station is hard to cross
Because so many soles have crossed the river there and worn it down and smooth
So smooth your feet slide out from under you on the rained steel, and
The air just cold-spits you in the face.

Raining when I saw that couple to the side, by the newsstand, standing out for standing
           still
While others walked West, some East, all quickly by these two they’d never see again
           nor meet,
The two whose private moment in public space was whispers and a secret kiss in open
           space,
Where hours before the voice cried Final Markets Mideast Blast still twenty five cents a
           quarter,

Two bits of glass her tears, caught in bottom lids of eyes that caught his that caught
The Big Clock hoping not to be caught looking just then,
Looking at the water in her eyes glinting pain, catch the next train, were those tears just
           rain,
And did it matter if her vision thing blurred just the same old goodbye?

A day or a week she’ll wait before he turns her way again
For their tryst then kissed then blissed then missed then pissed
Because he’ll file them next month, the papers, just let me get past this
Song she’s heard before and before, and Denial is a River,

Like the one beneath her feet, like her. Just like her,
Bound forever in a channel she didn’t make,
Bending at the shores of others’ wills, ask no questions,
Her pace at their grade, rapid or slow, carrying garbage others throw, to a delta then no
            more.

Time left, time she left, go left, back across that metal bridge in rain
Faux pont sur Seine, steel smooth brown sparkling halogen orange,
But her feet can slide out from under her because it’s
Slippery when wet.