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.