Golden Gate Bridge Poem by Raj Dronamraju

There will never be an age
Where I will put aside rage
And sit quietly in a hunched over humidity

There will never be a time
Where I will push the phoniest line
And weakly murmur "bygones" at aggressive past year failings

So we drove across the Golden Gate Bridge
Under the spires of the Golden Gate Bridge
Felt small and clumsy and useless under the Golden Gate Bridge

And my shirt is not the type of shirt that should be worn while travelling across the Golden Gate Bridge
And my hair is not the kind of hair that would have been styled for a trip across the Golden Gate Bridge

My memories are of hobo appearances, pockets with holes in them, and an empty belly
My memories are of being told the jump would kill you
The water is like cement from this height