After 911,

We were looking for “anything which was not nothing.”

even Styrofoam cups, too, held now, a new meaning.

(parts of xerox machines tumbling, along with the rest.)

Were there fresh coffee stains still warm in that one I found?

was someone sipping it on the way down, still chasing off and coming into

morning? did the angels borrow a sip for comfort too?

on the way down

we waited on George Washington’s bridge with all sort of tears;

some pressed back, some stuck in mid air…our fears, almost useless, until

one trucker told me he knew this day would come

he had seen it in a dream.  As for me, all i could see was an enormous thumb, lifting

and dragon black clouds forcefully forming over time.

we ran in shock, off the bridge leaving our stupid cars where they were

mostly we ran to pay phones down below, trying to call out, but

everything was frozen, jammed, static without motion-

then a voice would emerge, something familiar

i pulled out a quarter from my pocket, which i remarkable had

and called my friend in Brooklyn

everything ok friend? i’m watching them fall with you

just wanted you to know, we are one in witnessing at least.

then they made us run to our cars and take them off the bridge

for fear of more to come.

i could barely remember my indistinguishable rental car from Logan

i think it was black, that would make sense

we had to drive out of there. no one really knowing

who to help most. and all of us trembling on

one level or another, forever.