all bridges in town
hide within their structures
an epiphany

beyond them
the world has always
a face with
another make up
in inexistent colors

implacable dusks
passing over us
in a silent enumeration
of the seconds planted
on the roads' edges
so beautifully named by people
as trees

we sip the air
which crosses them
like we sipped a laudanum
for reaching a serenity
which every one of us feels
like a resurrection

all bridges in town
contain a self-renunciation
barely perceivable
while traveling
by car