Claudia Gary
Key Bridge, Tuesday Morning

I look down at the face of the Potomac
alive with sunlight. Then I bask a moment,
look up at rubber shoes and tires spinning

along the pavement of my span between
Rosslyn and Georgetown—students, workers, tourists
under the bluest sky, breathing fresh air

and feeling free. But here’s a dour face:
yesterday’s debutante, today’s chic matron
jogging across the river, eyes fixed forward,

thoughts inward, worrying about her waistline,
reliving last night’s table conversation,
reviewing her to-do and shopping lists,

planning a party and a hair appointment,
revising next year’s garden, anything
but what’s around. A harried driver looks up

and wishes she were outside glass and metal
like this trim woman in a running suit
who must be having a much better morning.