Don't Talk to Strangers

I sat on the

edge of a bridge

staring down

at the roiling

swirling depths

beneath me.

A stranger at

my shoulder

watches me.

"Will you jump?"

he asks.

I do not look

at him.

"Jump?

Why on earth

would I do that?"

I answer.

"If you were

not happy

with life.

Or curiosity

You will not

jump?"

I lean forward

over the waves,

"I do not know."

I say

"I am afraid

of water."

"Are you truly?"

he asks

"then why do you

sit there?

so precariously perched?"

I answer him,

"Because I do

not wish to live?

Or perhaps curiosity?

Maybe I wish to

overcome my fear...

The water

is rather beautiful

isn't it?"

I feel his eyes

on me

"Are you perhaps

mad?"

I laugh

throw back my head

and let myself laugh.

"Not at all.

If I were

would I jump?

would you?"

he is not smiling

is voice itself

is growling

"If I were

mad,

I would push you"

He can not

put a damper on

my mood.

I stare at

the artists dream

of an inspiration

below me

The man chatters

on about

slippery bridges

and being

accidently bumped

After a while

he realizes he

is being ignored

his voice is no

where near as

important to me

as the rising moon

over the water

The man stands

behind me

brooding.

Apparently he dislikes

being ignored

"Why do you

watch me,"

I ask

"Instead of the

wondrous view?"

The man considers

"The view knows

why it is there

and you don't"

I see the curve

of the almost

crescent moon.

"I know why

I am here."

I watch the

reflection of

myself over the

water,

"Sit with me

and you'll know

too"

He hopped over

the bar

and sat

almost too close

almost too far away.

He did not look at

the water

but at the stars,

"What brought

you here?" he asked.

I gave a small

sigh

"my dreams,

my nightmares,

what about

you?"

he swung his

feet under the

bridge

"my dreams,

my curiosity,

you."

I didn't really

care.

The obvious

flattery was lost

on me.

"Look down at

the water"

he did

"Isn't it beautiful?

The waves,

the reflections

the light shining

off the mirror

of the water.

Don't you

just want to be

part of it?

Part of the

beauty?"

He looked

away from

the water

looked at me

"I want to be

part of it"

He wasn't

talking about

the water

"What is your

name?"

he asked

"I'm not

going to

tell you"

I answered,

"What's yours?"

I asked.

"Jonathan"

he said.

I considered the

name,

"Are you brave,

Jonathan?"

he pondered

"I suppose so"

I smiled,

"Then maybe

I'll see you

again.

If not,

I'll miss you,

Jonathan."

And I jumped.