mystical rivers

i did a bit of porch sitting today...saw buck-toothed women speaking nothing but italian...saw a dog with bad hind legs chained to the leg of a deep-voiced, cigarette-ed, woman...man there are strange people all over this world...they are in every nook, every cranny...i wonder how anyone makes anything, how anything gets done with all these weirdos lurking around every corner...but then i sat on the porch and remembered how i took the ferryman's boat to the island...there i sat and listened to the music of the wandering minstrel...i saw the clouds cover the sun, and then felt the shade that the trees provided...and i remembered what this life was...the new york harbor...sailboats soaking in the sun...

to good ole ben franklin

i stumbled out to the corner last night to watch the fireworks light up first avenue...the dark red nectar from australia had me by the legs again...i had spent the day in an air conditioned tomb, soaking in my smelly skin...watching how ole g.w. fought for freedom against that other george...i loved the stories of the generals, revered throughout history, yet in their time nothing more than bumbling shells of humans...collapsed victims of a world they could never understand...it made me enjoy the day...and when i stood on the street, smoking carolina cigarettes, wearing a massachusetts tee-shirt, and listening to the cheers of roof-top new yorkers...it made me realize the beauty and futility of this country...bolts of light, red white and blue in the air...