Under the overpass - Wil Price

Under the overpass we were boys again, No false machismo to misconstrue our steps. We were certain.

The poem made me think about a specific overpass, which you can see in the picture above or more clearly in the preview picture. It's a local spot where young people meet, but also mostly older men to fish in the Spree. It's a proper third place where people meet, see each other, and loosen their social expectations a bit.

Godspeed, Tim

Under the overpass

by Wil Price, Exodus

Under the overpass we were kings.
We were time travelers with greasy wheels and sweaty palms.

Under the overpass we were boys again,
No false machismo to misconstrue our steps. We were certain.

The ditch was all that was.
The cars above were ants.
We were subterranean giants,
Our screeches never silenced,
Only muffled by a concrete veil.

Like the music of a foreign land compelling even the most
Ignorant of ears to reach out and the coldest of hearts to melt
Like the sweet drips of summer’s seemingly endless life.

Under the overpass we were kings,
And our kingdom was momentarily eternal.

We thought ourselves invincible.

And even as the foundations of that thought began to crumble,
We could at least say that we knew what it was to live.

And so we waited patiently as if life was a joke
And the punchline was not yet decided.

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