Shades of Staccato

The bridge

was a tourniquet

broken

pretty you

had trouble crossing.

The south Bronx

to our north

and out of view

the upper east side

still out of focus.

I was strangling

some smoke

triumphantly

near Midtown

but dreams

of the Midwest

had me mystified

estranged

perplexed

and perturbed

drifting listlessly
off the lonely bridge.