Written May 10, 2017
We were in a car a bunch of us girls,
on our way to somewhere in the city,
approaching the Alex Fraser Bridge,
from the Richmond side, it was maybe 1991.
All the lanes and curbs and speed
when I looked out the back seat window
and saw a bloke on a motorbike
white t-shirt, no leather jacket.
He speeds past us towards the tips of the
bridge lit high in the summer dark sky
with its long strands tied down.
There were no other cars in view I thought
and I watched him as he went fast and his bike tire
clipped the edge of one of those curbs and
threw him from his bike onto the pavement.
He rolled around on the ground holding his
helmet and I said to the other girls “Look!”
Our thoughts sped in our minds over what we
should do when a police car parked
quietly watching in a side lane pulled out
and drove to where he lay there.
We were driving past as the cop got out of his car
and we climbed onto the bridge going higher
looking down at the logs in the water.
All I can think of was the bare tanned elbows
below the t-shirt arms as the sleeves
were fanned by the speed and the tugboats
farther down the river with their lights on.
by Wendy Stewart