He was gazing out at the river, with a
“we work better together” tote bag next to him.
The water isn’t safe to swim in – raw sewage and atomic waste made sure of that.
But if I stood out on that rock and jumped off would it still cradle me?
Even if I came out with an extra toe or three?
Would Jesus dive in too, barefoot in sin?
I stare at the Ferris wheel across the bay and imagine what the city looks like from way down here.
Abigail Ray is a writer from Portland, Oregon and has been published in Same Faces Collective, Maudlin House, and Call Me Brackets. She recently graduated with her Bachelor’s in English and writing and is looking forward to a lucrative career path of Gay Barista™ She loves writing poetry and experimental fiction about loser-core women that are definitely not poorly disguised projections of herself, no matter what people are saying.