the bridge groans under the weight of trucks barreling towards the city, towards the isle
the train dives under the river as it lumbers towards the next station
the girl with the red cross on her neck, oblivious to it all, takes a drag of a forgotten cigarette, her hair drapes around the pole as sweeper mice scurry out of their holes under the benches to do away with the ashes
the red cross allots its bearer one cigarette per day, wherever she may be
the train having reached the island, she alights and flicks the butt to the mice
not even their creator knows what they do with the tarred spongy membranes
but the girl’s does
for He set the wheels in motion
He knows of the forks in the road, oblivious to them though His most sentient creations may be
the epiphany is unfathomable, doom and salvation at once
she licks her lips and savors the sticky sweet virginia tabacco
her mind settles uneasily, on a cliff overlooking the sea of good and evil within her soul
the sea within
and she is an island
surrounded by the waves crashing on her rocky banks, a turbulent roar at the crest, gentle ondulations underneath
she lets herself be lulled to sleep, lest she forget she was dreaming.