Pedestrian bridge.

I imagine I am in something along the lines of that one scene in Garden State. You know, the one where the hipster friends swirl around in a blur of sycophantic rush while the lone protagonist sits calmly in the center of the storm contemplating life. How appropriate.
But in my town the hipster friends are the overweight. The old. The newlywed and the remainder of the chex mix at the bottom of the box that give this city a soul.
A runner in green passes by me.

It’s cold today. The kind of cold that makes you want to give the environment a good slap in the face, and run the heater in your car while idling in a parking lot. Ah, yes. Nature. The mother that is in vogue. I look at the trees that dot the edge of the river and assure myself that there are still pockets of green left in this overheating and already dying world. That is what they tell us. They ARE right, aren’t they? Aren’t they?? The tangents that my mind reaches to on that subject overwhelm me at this moment, and my eyes move on.

Someone has tagged ‘Ron Paul’ on the side of some decrepit railroad track spanning the river. Psh. Who does the guy think he is? I contemplate biking over there right now and spraying over the injustice.
A runner in green passes by me for the third time.

From the bridge the city seems dead today. The cranes sit on their perch above it all and wait for their life-giving masters, and the gray clouds loom above warning those those who dare come out.
Suddenly.
“OPTIMUS PRIME! PREPARE YOURSELF”
The crane on the taller of the two high rises under construction rips itself off its base and leaps towards another crane five buildings away. A battle ensues. Babies cry. People breathe. I blink. It’s over.

A bike rider stops just behind my field of vision. Don’t look. Don’t LOOK. I look. He lights a cigarette, and I start to berate him in my mind but quickly loose interest. Argh! I can’t concentrate on brooding while he is there. MOVE ON SIR! He passes, and I follow his path across the bridge and down the swirly-ly-ly-ly ramp on the other side of the river. Its fucking cold.

The cars are comforting in their regularity. Whoosh....whoosh. They traverse the span of the river so quickly and so purposeful. The clogs that run this leviathan click into place.

The silence is stifling. I scream. Where is everyone??
The city swells as its denizens participate in a collective intake of breath. Release.
And I, who sitting alone on a bench in the middle of a bridge above a sea of ice cold death, don’t feel so alone.
Me.
You.
We.
City, I love you.

A runner in green passes by me for the eighth time.