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Krista Detor


Bridges Krista Detor & David Weber

I’ve been looking, she said, for the doorway, she said
for the answer, she said, to the question
I’ve been drinking, she said, in my bedroom, she said
painting pictures, she said, of my children

I’ve been trying to find it for so long
that I think that the doorway is not where it used to be

It’s all water gone under the bridge,
it’s gone under the bridge,
Oh it’s good and gone to places I’ve never been
Bridges are burned and fall down in the messes I’ve made
Burning bridges, the price I have paid

I remember, she said, in the desert, she said
never had to buy my own drink
Had a boyfriend, she said, he played football, she said,
called me ‘beautiful,’ she said, I think

I’ve been trying so long to forget him
that I think sometimes I never met him

Walk me over to the other side of the house
give me nothing to make me believe all of this
lead me to the place where I’ll lay my head
give me something to make me sleep, she said

I’m a painter, she said, but I’m not sure, she said
why the canvas is white. Nothing’s here.
They forget me, she said, an old story, she said
and I know from the things I don’t hear

I’ve been trying to run my hands over and under it,
someday, maybe I’ll feel the color. Trying to paint them for so long
that I think that they pictures don’t look like them anymore