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



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