the bridge

the goatheaded man turned his
yellow eyes
on me
horns slicked back,
a calcified comb-over


I could see his question growing
a trick to keep me here

he expected me to cower but
instead
i stepped forward and pulled a
quarter from his ear
then a bouquet from my sleeve

my hat bore a white rabbit which
hopped across the bridge

mesmerized, he could do nothing
but watch me leave