I drove through the Ft. Pitt Tunnel
once,
just like a certain passage
in a book told me I
should do.
I rolled down my windows
and waited almost impatiently
for the city to burst forth from the
focal point drawing closer
and closer,
but as soon as I hit the bridge,
I didn’t feel as the character did
(infinite, was how he described it,
but
I was finite).

Instead,
I pulled into a parking space
in the city
and wandered the streets,
avoiding any signs of life,
for I knew
if they looked too closely at me,
they would know
too much of
my heart.