I spit in the river like a boy,
but nobody saw me,
I made sure of that.
I was dry
after running across the field,
with lungs heaving
and mouth powdery.
It was like that, and I stopped
on the bridge to quench my thirst
by staring at the water.
So I spit.
It was white and chalky swirling
in black water 'till it caught the
current and was lost in the foam
over rocks and broken twigs.
I watched beyond what I saw,
and no one else saw or spoke except
a catbird on the railing.