Crossing The Bridge Poem by RIC BASTASA

when you cross the bridge
you have nothing in mind
except
the other side

you have decided to
burn the bridge
and she likes it

what is the use of the past?
what is the use of the old pictures?

i have seen all of them
rotting in the garden

i have seen the rain and sunshine
mindless
about the fading of everything

the faces in black and white
turning into another muddy solution
seducing the roots
wanting to be gone