Poem: The Foot Bridge

Look at them crossing the foot bridge
Dancing to the music in their skulls
With the hawks cresting overhead

And the clouds presenting one after the other
Like a Constable show at the zendo
While the Iguanas sun themselves poolside

No one drew it up like that no
It's just the confluence of discrete motivations
And that thing they call synchronicity 

I've seen the good, the bad, and the in-between today
No, ain't no revolution happenin' anytime soon
Just the slow strange intermittent parade

M. Bogen
March/June 2024