bridge dreams

i'm dreaming, as always, of bridges

once, when I was maybe ten,
my mother dragged me along to meet a friend
who was staying overnight in miami
the appropriateness of that was in question
but it made me feel part of a grand conspiracy

we crossed over a connector
seemingly lauching ourselves into the sky
over and over, unable to find the right exit
to the holiday inn far below

we were laughing like loons 
by the time we found it
i fell down in a dramatic and hysterical way
on the freshly paved driveway
when we learned, after all those passes,
that it was the wrong hotel

there is a full-page, color photo
in my high school yearbook
of the kind that resembles a train trestle
suspended high over russell creek in nowhere, kentucky

it had two wooden paths across it
to guide the car's tires by
as a new driver, those wooden planks seemed
inches wide, impossible to navigate,
i think i shut my eyes

i was secretly glad
when its characterless, flat, two lane
replacement was installed in my senior year
i never knew what happened to the old one

today i careened north
on a network of flyovers
to the locals--spaghetti junction--
i hate the curving trajectory of the highest one
i still want to shut my eyes

after the storm, the sky is that queer shade of yellow
the color of dreams that you don't want to have