After walking for several miles through St. Louis

The river was first, I'm sure
Meandering through the plain.
Later, I surmise -- what history I know --
The cowpaths now paved into relative permanence.
A crooked bridge: angular, not curved.
As if eager to span the river below;
The shortest path may not be a straight line
When you're bisecting a fractal curve.
Then the shiny monument:
The upturned necklace hung over the city-gate.
Like a welcoming garland to travelers westbound.
But like an inverted horseshoe,
Imbued with ill-luck
For unsuspecting premonitionists.

And lately, my instep arch,
That not only keeps the ache
(Like the bard of Boston said),
But also leaves a curved footprint;
Another ephemeral contribution
To the arch-city's history.