Governor's Island

Thinking about the waves breaking on the Governor's Island rocks tonight, in the dark, with nobody there to watch them. Wondering what the lawns of Colonels' Row look like under  moonlight, empty and silent, and did the ghosts of all those soldiers and sailors enjoy the music?

All those kids blowing bubbles, all those lovers kissing, all those people singing, where once troops drilled with rifles before marching off to Gettysburg, and the Argonne, and Normandy,and Saigon, do you think it could maybe purge the earth of some of its hardness and coldness, let the sun shine more warmly there, let all those souls know that at the end there is peace and forgiveness waiting, not judgment?

I have no idea, but God, it's a hopeful thought, isn't it?

Early In The Morning

Can't face the morning light,

it's too near the end of the road.

Can't watch the stars fade,

it's too near the end of the road.

Can't watch your kids dress for school,

it's too near the end of the road.

Can't watch you climb out of my bed,

it's too near the end of the road.

Titanic Haiku

Did you see the stars

looking down as the water

closed over your head?

I Don't Know How To Help, So I'm Offering The Best I Can Think Of

Do you even hear the waves crashing on the sand beneath your window, when you sit there on a summer night, cigarette between your fingers, blowing smoke rings at the summer moon?The waves pile the sand up higher and higher, soon it will reach your window sill. Will you step out then, walking down the sand slope as light as the ghost of a moon beam? Will the sand sparkle under your feet as you dance down to the beach, igniting the memories you thought you'd lost forever?

Like that July night when we sat on your rooftop a few blocks from the beach? We'd spent the morning swimming in the ocean and the afternoon making love in your mother's double bed before she came home from work, then we'd all eaten dinner together at the Chinese restaurant across the street, your mom's treat. Now she was downstairs watching tv and you and I were on the roof, sharing a cigarette and looking south toward the bay. We could just see the old wooden footbridge from here, the one where all the kids go diving on summer afternoons. There's a full moon, bright enough to read by. You're singing "Moon Shadow" so softly, your hand in mine as we sit on the parapet looking down at the cars cruising up and down Emmons Avenue.

I have a million memories like that of our time together. Come and look at them anytime, if you think it will help.

I Saw Her Again Last Night

Well, actually it was yesterday afternoon. I would have walked right past her if she hadn't talked to me, I didn't even realize it was her. She was about twelve years old this time, carrying a backpack, wearing a plaid skirt, tights and sneakers. She looked like everybody's kid sister from every tv series ever made.

She stopped and smiled at me, waved her hand eagerly to get my attention. "Hey Jim! How are you today?" she asked. I guess I did a double, or maybe triple, take, thinking, "Who is this kid? She doesn't look familiar. She's not the daughter of one of my tenants". Then I recognized the pony tail, the glasses. "Emily?" I asked.

"Sure,"she giggled, "if that's what you want to call me. But I'd really prefer it if you use my real name. I haven't heard it in so long I can hardly remember it."

I remember it. But I don't think I have the courage to speak it out loud.

The Last St. Patrick's Day Of The Nineteenth Century

On Saint Patrick's Day I always think of my grandmother packing her things on a spring morning in 1899. She's fifteen years old and she's looking at the blue skies and green meadows of County Mayo extra hard, trying to remember every detail, because she knows she'll probably never see them again. She's never been twenty miles from the spot where she was born, and now she's going to cross the Western Ocean to a place she's only read about. She has two dollars and a steamship ticket in her pocket. There's a boy on the village green, waiting to see her off. He'll kiss her cheek and wish her well, and when she's well out of sight he'll cry a little, for what might have been.

Haiku For The Ides Of March

Here in the Forum,

Admirers all around me,

Sun glints on my crown.