You don't need the stories of my scars or in the stars

Every day I cross 100 years of steel on two wheels. I don't stop, though I once did -- with you, to kiss atop the river. Kissing might be better, but barreling over the river is no sham way to start or end a day. Yesterday, with gates blocking the bridge crossing, I realized just how close to the water I am, how close we once were.

The bridge stayed up for half an hour. I considered turning back, navigating a different path. But I waited, watched it lower then raise again. When the pieces fit together again, I moved forward into the day.