Thirteen, skinny, alone
my shirt soaked
legs aching
the hard climb yet ahead,
i rest on the bridge
put the kickstand down—
dismount.

Leaning, the rail hot
against my back,
and boiling mud-red swirls

below,

i squint through lattice-works
of riveted girders
toward distant shale ridges
standing,
like shelves of dusty books
shimmering in the half-light.

She screams!

i look down
almost losing my balance.

She runs naked along the bank
darting
shoulders brown
breasts white
firm and pointed.

i stare, my mouth dry.

Not far behind,
He trots after her,
loping,
almost in slow motion,
limited in His nakedness, 
muscular, tanned,
His buttocks white.

"Do you need any help?"

i shout

the sound of my voice hollow,
like static above the foaming rocks.

She stops running and looks up at me,
her hand cupped above her eyes,
shading the sun.

She sticks out her tongue,
drops her gaze,
giggles,
waits for Him.

She runs again,
but slower this time.

He catches her on a grassy knoll
shaded by willows and cattails
where the Gunnison

surges

into the Colorado.