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Fall Of The Twin Towers


by Jerry Ratch


 

 

Sitting at an outside table at the Bassett Café

on West Broadway, I remember, in the background

 

always the Twin Towers behind me

in the photographs from that time

 

And the sparrows in New York, bolder than anywhere

working over the scraps left on the tables

 

even as we sat there

unafraid

 

flying off with them to their nest

behind the streetlight

 

Or sometimes begging from a business man

at a table two tables away

 

“She's hungry,” I said. The bird, head cocked

waiting for something to fall, or to be given

 

The grumpy business man saying

“Must not be a working bird”

 

And as in any nightmare

or bad and oily daydream

 

he gets up and
flies away

 

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