Across a bridge,
there was a woman who once asked me,

What happened in the dark?

She was questioning
if there was deep trembling
in my life.

Elbows on her knees,
leaned in,
eyelids soft she goes in my memory,

Did something happen in the dark?

But I can only
back up,
like a semi truck
trying to squeeze into a place that barely
fits it.

But I fit.

“Nothing.” I say.

“Nothing happened in the dark.”

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

A cry.