The Chickasaw Bridge

As he drove home late one night

heading north on the Chickasaw Bridge,

he saw a hand-painted message on a billboard sign:

"there's someone else" . . . it was painted in red.

As the message burned in his mind,

he thought back on some things she had said

and her touch that seemed to grow colder each day,

and the distance in their bed.

That night brought a cold, deep chill,

made worse by the words that he'd read,

to a house where suspicion grew stronger each minute

while his jealousy fire burned red.

As he drove to work the next day,

heading south on the Chickasaw Bridge,

he couldn't keep from looking back

at the message that was written in red.

But a new one had taken its place,

and his heart seemed to stop when he read:

"she's not alone," so he turned right around

and went north on the Chickasaw Bridge.

She told the police she was startled,

all alone she was put to the test,

when he rushed through the door, then fell to the floor,

one shot put suspicion to rest.

The stares and the gossip meant nothing,

the neighbors all knew what she did.

No one was surprised when the new man arrived

at the house north of Chickasaw Bridge.

Months later on his way home from work,

heading north on the Chickasaw Bridge,

he saw a hand-painted message on a billboard sign

"there's someone else" . . . it was painted in red.

Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   January 2015