Friday, June 15, 2012

View from the walkway





The water slaps at the river walk foundations
where Hoboken kisses Weehawken
the dark cover water reflecting the line
of buildings on both sides

Ferries cut across the river like snakes
slithering against the rough water
to plunge deep into the recesses of Manhattan
no gentle massage,
just a bump against the dock
spitting out passengers
in a rush to pull out again

The tug boats and barges
do not rush,
caressing the waves
with slow and steady speed
not cutting across the current
the way the ferries do,
but moving up and down it
flowing into the folds
where the currents collide
their glistening stacks
huffing and puffing
as they move up and down,

I stand on the walkway
fingers clutching to cold wet rail
as if expecting the next wave
to suck me in,
wondering the whole time
if I am a tug boat or a ferry,
whether I cut deep into the flesh
of this great river
or caress it,
wondering in the end
whether I sink or swim.




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