Where is the bridge from here to there
where the birds sing
and I don't hate rich children
or have contempt for their stay at home mothers
or feel road rage
or derision for the kids hanging out with nothing good to do at the gas station
or distain for wild-eyed Obama haters and lovers
or impatience with big-bodied spiders in my home forcing me to assassinate them
or irritation with cheerful people
or blind anger against corporations and my thighs
or feel the the scowl of obligation that crosses my brow everytime my mother calls?
Where the hell is it?
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