Walked with the traffic-stream over a high
 humming bridge: airborne

 before a strange city, its lives
 crystallised, flickering with intelligence.

 Backcloth of ashgreen mountains,
 tangerine dusk, all the colours of elsewhere.

 The voices whispering you should be 21
 not 41  I crumpled up and let fall

 over the rail, little bits
 of flotsam that would find me later.

 Sat at the window in Kitto's Japanese restaurant,
 wrote nothing worth writing, thought

 nothing worth thinking, unless it was
 "I'm here... here... here..."

 (shadowface ghosting the glass)
 held by the carnival of passing faces,

 their tanned legs, their many hairstyles.
 When it came down to it, did nothing at all

 but come down to earth, in the air,
 finding myself at last on a bridge

 into a strange city.

Note: The following words are in italics in lines 7 and 8:

“you should be 21 / not 41”

This poem is I think about suddenly finding yourself on the brink of an adventure that’s all the more exciting because you don’t know what’s going to happen around the corner (or across the bridge). A sudden awareness of the possibilities of everyday life.

— Sarah

Martin adds

A lovely perspective on the City - I wish I’d known of this poem back when I ran my Songs of the City theme [Poem #462, Poem #464, Poem #466]. The imagery is a lovely blend of fantasy and cyberpunk (doubtless not the poet’s intention, but that’s the first thing I thought of), cast into new perspective by the italicised “you should be 21/ not 41”. The poem’s title, with its allusion to the old favourite “What I Did on my Summer Vacation” reinforces this return-to-youth strain.

— Martin