There's an old abandoned bridge
between Yosemite and here.
Take the Lathrop exit where-
(or don't, it's your life after all)
-we throttled to jump off it
when our buddy flashed excitement, a boyish daydream, and we decided.
Our clothing
soon was hanging
on a long forgotten railroad track
(Sitting naked on a maple board-
Probably from the Civil War.
Dropping rocks to test the height,
Water black with no rapport)
He giggled like a giddy child
trying not
to give us flak,
(For being such a bunch of scaredy cats)
Moonbeams on our skin, and also iPhone torches, and the headlights of the Jeep.
And did he jump? yes!
From a stand with only his two feet supported by a 2 by 4?? yes!
He flipped behind his head!
A backflip with a midway twist.
(Or maybe I half-remember,
It was just a normal flip)
I swear, man, it was amazing.
Off the wooden railing,
Pale and falling towards the water,
which,
(by the way)
was as black as the apocalypse.
Splashing ghostly underwater,
Then shimmied up the concrete pillar,
Called out to the crescent moon,
And gave a thirty foot salute,
plunging towards the blackened river.
Laughing, swimming,
He called up to us, quivering,
(And said),
"Alright, you're next."
One time my crazy friend suggested we jump off a bridge at night.
