over Airmen’s Bridge, down by the ruins and along the banks. I made it to the Perch and yelped at the price of a pint, wish I’d known Riverman with his barge and glass-walled wheelhouse, his would have been the better shelter, watching the rains blow in over the meadow. I’ve never had so much to juggle in life, so many rewardless and pressing decisions with no last measure of conviction to make them. Where’s shuffling Riverman with his gave-it-all up glare, softening to a smile as he understands, beckons me aboard to sit and stare over the soon-coming rain-patter ripples on river’s slide.
