Report from Suffolk County, NY

What follows is a marvelous street/stream scene from my friend George Wallace. Mr. Wallace is the poet laureate of Suffolk County, and was one of the thousands affected by the recent black-out.

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CROSSROADS

because there is no yellow light
or red light or green light
only eyelids at the crossroads
going off and on
without direction
it is no longer a river
it has become
inexplicable
stagnant water
so a man in a uniform
with a set of flares
in his belt
and a set of instructions
in his head
with eyes as big as bicycle tires
and brass buttons
on his blue shoulders
and a gun on his hips
and a white glove
on his right hand
and a silver whistle
in his left hand
wades into it
he is slow as a bear
reaching into a river
but he is also very patient
he dips his hand
into the blind rumbling
horizontal darkness
chock full of unmoving things
rock and water
branch and stones
he sets his jaw
he fishes around in it
he takes a taste of it
he admires the logic of it
river! river!
he is defiant
he is wise
he is standing waist deep
at the intersection
and he sets it going again
with a strong
paddling
swirling
bearclaw
motion
river! river!
river! river!
all the while
staring back at the rest of us
staring at him © George Wallace, 2003