My baby ran me over with her car.
Maybe she didn�t really mean to.
She was busy fleeing the only man
she�d ever known before me.
Maybe the sun was in her eyes or
the lure of flowing caramel from
the world�s biggest Hershey factory.
Or maybe it was just a song on the radio
that sounded better than all of ours.
With exotic words in foreign languages
like French, Italian or Swahili
that all came out like fuck yeah.
Maybe love is just four wheels of desire
and a heavy foot that keeps on driving
til it runs out of gas. Or maybe that�s
all I�ll ever know of it. Balzac said that
behind every great civilization, there�s
a great crime. I wouldn�t know about
that. Perhaps you�d have to ask an Indian.
And maybe true love requires a great sacrifice.
You�d best ask a Preacher. She did feel
a bump or two. Perhaps even looked back
once or twice and said sorry to the rearview mirror.
Maybe even had a quick pang for the old store
where we made love on the phone with everyday
words and knew that was all we ever needed.
But who am I to stand in the way of the promise
of sweeter kisses in the distance? And now they
gather round to take at look at this heap on the road.
Hang a sign around that says: Here Lies the Disposable
Human Bridge. One for her to drive away from her past
And lead into the future. One that will collapse as soon
as it�s lost its usefulness. And they come around
to get a look at this all-too-common exhibit.
The children too. Some of them laugh. Some
of them cry. Strangers and friends too. One says:
�What the hell did you expect? Another: �If you
love someone, set them free and if they don�t��
Another still: �Be patient. Try to hang on
and be her friend. The guilt. The stress.
She�s not herself now.� And another yet:
�I love you.� And maybe the Zombie of our love
will rise up and follow her to their window.
And always be everpresent whenever she tries
to kiss him. And maybe there will always be
a light on at the center with the lit hope
that she�ll someday see it. It�s all I can do
just to move my lips to ask the doctor
(who�s made his way up to the front
of the crowd): �Doc, do you think
I�ll ever learn to walk again?�And
he says with a shrug: �Who the hell�s
ever heard of a bridge that could walk?�


�2007 by Ray Sweatman