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Britt Kusserow
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Bridges
I thought these tracks were deserted
but up on the bridge there's a train stumbling by.
It's 2AM - I'm cold and distracted
by lonely train whistles to sky.
So I'll move west to Oregon,
or south to New Orleans
and maybe I'll stay when I find something bigger,
'cause babe, this is bigger than me.
Don't you, don't you miss our banter?
The comfortable way we relate?
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I'm sorry I hug you too long, and I never
took time to know you this way.
But I'll move west to Oregon,
or south to New Orleans
and maybe I'll come home, broken, and disheveled,
or maybe I'll stay and believe.
Oh, I could remain where the bridges have trains -
but I've said too much to not leave.
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