For MJN crossing beneath,
for NYC connecting across,
for The Brooklyn Bridge rescue working destiny 

Advance your vantage
this bridge,
collapse your facade of steel,
your gutted concrete floor. 

Collide your bridge maker
with mine,
collage your instinctive hand
over mouth with my eyes shut,
vocal chords spewing forth— 

a scream
a void 

to coalesce to convalesce
on one bridge
of material unidentifiable yet.
Coordinate the crossing,
bare feet, dust, and ash caked faces 

no veil could protect,
suits meaningless,
ties undone
till they become arms swaying,
a human chain
of events. 

A human behavior changing
no way

your bridge maker, mine,
his, hers.
They designed bridges
to be passageways.
Make them destinations 

to be good to get no further
than this, this bridge
cannot be
a boundary
because bridges connect. 

It is still where it has been,
the destination stands
between these pedestrian elevating towers
still here.

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