And that's all I can
recall of Brooklyn Bridge,
tonight, John A Roebling
and Washington Roebling
built it, and it hath cables
and it does one good
to cross it everyday
– Jack Kerouac
The Brooklyn Bridge Blues
the box in brooklyn
I stare out onto the brooklyn bridge
from my piece of shit apartment,
picturing myself Washington Roebling
feeling like I too, have the bends.
see, if you ascend too quickly
the decompression will strike you in the nervous system
knock you down to your knees
I know a little bit about being on knees
the air in july is stifling .
the oscillating fan on the table
doesn’t oscillate on me often enough.
mama used to tell me if you don’t circulate the air
it’ll leave a stench through the whole place.
I figure, hell, I never took much of her advice
so I might as well try this one
they say roughly 27 people died building the bridge
and it took about 14 years to fill out
nearly 15,000 tons of stone and wire.
it appears from here that a lot of cars cross it.
I mostly just look at it;
all my business takes place on this side
bet I could take everything of value that I own
and fit it into a cardboard box
let’s see...
books of poetry (3)
bottle of whiskey
laptop
cell phone
wedding ring
oscillating fan
tv remote control
wristwatch (not the one I wear, but the nice one sara bought me for christmas;
she always said not to wear it ‘cept for special occasions)
I imagine a lot of the people out there
are headed for special occasions.
maybe they’ll visit an uncle,
spend a day or two upstate
or see a show on broadway,
go have a fancy dinner
to celebrate an anniversary
I don’t celebrate anniversaries
on good days, I stare out beyond the bridge
where virgin gusts cut sharp waves
out of time-traveled ocean.
reminders of liberty
lead to memories un-liberated;
ones that could use some settin' free
bet I could take all my guilt
and fit it into a cardboard box
for the stupid shit I used to say to sara
and the way I neglected mama
all the days wasted watching tv
or chatting online
and nights suffocating in whiskey and cocaine
the way I treated people on my way up
the way I treated people on the way down
telling those girls I wasn’t married
before I fucked them
all the lies told to God and myself
I read that it’s 6,016 feet long
but to me it’s not so much
about the structure itself as it is
the scope of everything on the other side,
that stretches on forever
a loss of oxygen can do funny things to the mind,
make you see things that maybe aren’t there.
I saw sara as a window,
she saw me as a locked door;
she managed to find another way out.
I found out that there are some things
that just won’t fit in a cardboard box
I’m thinkin 'bout calling a cab,
giving him all my money
and riding until the meter runs out...
I’ll take my box of shit with me
and leave it on the middle of the bridge
maybe somebody else can find some use of it
I just want to go someplace where I can breathe
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Submission Name: the box in brooklyn
