A Poem by Eugene Novogrodsky

They started side by side,
Another couple, bags in hand,
Crossing back to Mexico,
US stores’ chickens/toilet paper/
Sodas/soap powder/toothpaste.

Suddenly, in the middle of the bridge,
The river’s green and brown water
Fast below, he stops and
Leans on the railing - traffic side.

She’s walked on, and then
Knows he’s not at her side.
She stops, too, leans on the same
Railing - she’s well and pensive.
He’s pale, leaning more, almost on his knees.

She doesn’t walk back to him.
She hopes he’ll stand,
Finish the crossing - and if
Not, she’s alone -
Sees herself - after decades of together -
Like the shallow bushes ripped
From banks by the river below,
He, too, bends/curves.
She looks - not back -
But to the side -
Cars and more cars crossing.
Behind her, shoppers crossing,
Bags like theirs,

She stares, longer and harder,
And he does not come ….

Gene Novogrodsky, written several years ago