While Driving to the Airport
by Beau Cameron

The light shifted
Across Bethany Lane
Providing the illusion 
The bridge had collapsed


Vines hike up the brick
Finding handholds in cracked stone
As if trying to bring it down
“Timber!” They call.


The bridge stays upright. 


Perhaps the streetlights hold
The dreams of ivy overgrown
They cannot tell them to passing cars
So the light
In its kindness
Projects visions onto our windshields


And in the viewing screen 
We watch Bethany Lane
Fall. ​

Beau Cameron is ___________