Third Night, Overpass

By 2am the room had shrunk

to the usual size—

ceiling, the window's gray,

the same thought arriving again.

I put on shoes.

That was enough of a plan.

The overpass is ten minutes

at the pace I was going,

which was the pace of someone

with nowhere to be.

Orange highway light

on the ribbed concrete overhead.

A shopping cart on its side

in the drainage channel below,

one wheel pointing up.

Rain started.

Stopped before it was really rain.

I stood in the dry center

and waited.

The thing that had been sitting in my chest since Monday—

I couldn't say it was gone.

More like redistributed.

Divided into smaller parts

that each fit somewhere else.

Rain again.

Twenty seconds.

Then nothing.

Somewhere past the freight yard,

metal on metal.

Far off.

I decided that was enough

of a reason to go back.

Walked home in the starting rain.