Don't Talk to Strangers

July 27, 2008
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Don't Talk to Strangers
I sat on the
edge of a bridge
staring down
at the roiling
swirling depths
beneath me.
A stranger at
my shoulder
watched me
with eyes mixed
with curiosity and fear
"Will you jump?"
he asked.
I did not look
at him.
"Jump?
Why on earth
would I do that?"
I fingered the
hem of my blouse.
"If you were
not happy
with life.
Or curiosity.
You will not
jump?"
I leaned forward
over the waves,
"I do not know,"
I said, "I am afraid
of water."
"Are you truly?"
he asked, seeming
to be surprised
by this somewhat
meaningless statement,
"Then why do you
sit there so
precariously perched?"
I paused, considering
his question,
but still not
looking back at
the intruding man,
"Because I do
not wish to live?
Or perhaps curiosity?
Maybe I wish to
overcome my fear...
The water
is rather beautiful
isn't it?"
I felt his eyes
on me, and felt the
weight of his words
on my ears as
he confronted me,
"Are you perhaps
mad?"
I laughed
threw back my head
and let myself laugh
in a slightly
maniacal way.
"Not at all.
And if I were
would I jump?
Would you?"
He was not smiling,
his voice itself
was growling,
"If I were
mad,
I would push you."
He could not
put a damper on
my mood.
I stared at
the artists dream
of an inspiration
below me as
the man chattered
on about
slippery bridges
and being
accidentally bumped.
After a while
he realized he
was being ignored:
His voice is no
where near as
important to me
as the rising moon
over the water.
The man stood
behind me
brooding.
Apparently he disliked
being ignored.
"Why do you
watch me,"
I asked, sincerely curious,
"Instead of the
wondrous view?"
The man considered
and responded,
"The view knows
why it is there
and you don't"
I saw the curve
of the almost
crescent moon.
"I know why
I am here."
I watched the
reflection of
myself over the
water,
"Sit with me
and you'll know
too"
He hopped over
the bar and
sat himself down
almost too close
almost too far away.
He did not look at
the water
but at the stars,
"What brought
you here?" he asked.
I gave a small
impatient sigh
"My dreams,
my nightmares,
what about
you?" I turned
toward him to see
him swing his
feet under the
bridge,
"My dreams,
my curiosity,
you."
I pretended to care
but the obvious
flattery was lost
on my dreamlike
mindset. "Look down
at the water."
He did.
"Isn't it beautiful?
The waves,
the reflections
the light shining
off the mirror
of the water.
Don't you
just want to be
part of it?
Part of the
beauty?"
He looked
away from
the water,
looked at me,
"I want to be
part of it."
But he wasn't
talking about
the water,
"What is your
name?"
I watched a cloud
move over
what was left
of the moon
"I'm not
going to
tell you"
I answered,
"What's yours?"
He seemed
unsurprised
by my secrecy,
but felt no need
to hide anything
from me.
"Jonathan,"
he said.
I considered the
name,
"Are you brave,
Jonathan?"
He pondered,
"I suppose so"
I couldn’t help
but smile
at his eager face,
"Then maybe
I'll see you
again.
If not,
I'll miss you,
Jonathan."
And I jumped.





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Sarah <3's Mr Bleu said...
Sept. 30, 2008 at 7:48 pm
Absolutely beautiful. It's not written like typical poem, which makes it twice as interesting.
 
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