On the bridge (a steampunk poem)

Walking on the bridge
over the dark fierce river
staring at the old building
lit by neon lights;
clouded with smoke
crawling out of chimneys
grey as stormy clouds.
I 'm standing there,open my flask
and take a sip of rum.
Zeppelins floating through 
the air above me
and I 'm jealously watching them
passing by,leaving me there
with a half mechanic dog
lying on my feet.