I walk across the bridge

for the pleasure of walking across the bridge,

daring the wind to pluck me up like a bird,

make me a cloud in its mouth,

transiting the boundless high

camino of unearthly blue,

morphing to a golden fetish

of the sun when day is through.
I cross the bridge

for the pleasure of striding

over ingots of gold light,

frisked by air’s invisible probes,

adrenalin channelling helium.
I do not resemble Hokusai’s women,

robed in ornate kimono folds,

clattering in high-runged clogs

with mincing gait to appear demure.

Above the diamond-python river

I quicken pace as the wind leans closer,

loosening hair, unfastening laces,

lifting my skirt, an impatient lover.