Cobwebs

The pattern will change . . . because I am here. A girl walks across the Brooklyn Bridge, a backpack full of knitting slung over her shoulder, a green fish kite in her hand.A boy balances on the bridge's crisscross webbing, waiting for the girl to pass.Are they angels? Spiders? In love? Or in danger? Once they connect, they'll start a chain of events that could stretch out smoothly like the river below them -- or become knotted like a tangled web of spider silk. "I can do this. (Maybe.)Climb the wall. (Just like the other time.)Don't think twice. (Yeah, right.)Leap for it. (Only as far as absolutely necessary.)"