Everyone I Knew Before 9/11 Thinks I'm Dead
by Mark Kraushaar

          postsecret.com March 13, 2005

I thought, Fuck work.
I was on the in bound 3 Train leaving Flatbush
and I thought, I'm getting off.
I thought, I'll walk around.
I thought, I'll get a drink,
and catch a matinee, and so I did,
or, anyway, I walked to Mickey's
read the papers, did the crossword and I was waiting
for my eggs up when all these sirens started,
then more sirens, but more and more
and so the waitress turned the tv on
and someone screamed
and everybody ran outside.
Everybody watched that black smoke belching
high across the river like they'd drilled a hole in Hell.
There was a kind of quiet though.

I stood there.
A little breeze began.
I thought, I have this one big chance.
I stood there on the corner, and I  caught
a cab and got the Greyhound west that afternoon.
It's four years now, and I'm married and I'm happy.
Anyhow, I stood there on this corner
by an elm tree with its limbs
lopped off, and I remember by the curb
its branches sat in one enormous heap.
It was autumn.
A leaf broke loose and cart-wheeled through
a nearby yard in which a girl had made a foot-high
fence of twigs and fell asleep.
Clouds were passing and a car went by,
an ambulance, a car, another car.

Copyright © 2005 - Mark Kraushaar
Published: 4/5/12   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem