THE BRIDGE

      I’m neither high nor low on the whole thing.  Am I some kind of monster or something?  People were killed and I’m already sick of talking about it and hearing it on the news.  Is it that I don’t care or am I doing that “polar opposite” thing that I do with girlfriends and at parties?  Somebody’s having the time of their lives and I swing 180.  A bunch of gloomy Gus’s sitting around, moping?  I light up like a Christmas tree.  What is that?  Where does that shit come from?  Is it something I got from my parents?  I never knew my dad, so maybe I’m getting it from him.  It’s not right and it certainly ain’t healthy.

      I hear they’re pulling bodies out from under sections of the collapsed bridge, tossing bodies in shopping carts.  I’m not phased.  I find myself trying to use this as an excuse to get out of work.  I can’t imagine what I would’ve been like during 9/11.

      I just hope they never find out that I caused this shit.  Who knows how I’d feel then?  Maybe that would cure me of this crap.  Who knows? 
 
 
-S