a new walking bridge flanks the wooden train bridge, that
nature is diligently dismantling.
urban decay cradled this space,
not so long ago inhabited only by feral dogs and humans
now a busy path from paycheck lofts to office cubes
connects a fabricated neighborhood of flag ship groceries and hair salons
you won’t find a bodega or $2 dry cleaner in the mixed urban use zone.
it came up with plans to be shiny and young
— a place to begin before you marry at 28 and move to a shady place with solid schools and a country club membership.
lives anchored above, dropping shade onto new concrete and old shadows
from a very different light.
amidst it all people pass through with their world’s belongings strapped to their back
turtles of humanity’s kind, rarely will they be picked up and guided safely to a place where they will be protected. and like turtles perhaps they don’t seek others help
human turtles are left to make their way, instead of depending on a pond ruled by a set of social norms and expectations, comfort that can be snatched by the whim of corporate or social court, they fold into their carried home and go about creating their pond at the edges of the rules.