If I Could Just Reach It

Last night, I stood staring on Queens Blvd. after a series of loud, low-flying helicopters kind of sparked my curiosity. My view is of the courtyard area between two buildings, so I had to go outside to see what I was hearing.

A few people, and my cat, were spooked, but my super shrugged it off, another American ever ready to smile, to go inside where he can't see or hear anything. Meanwhile, toxic dispersants are being rained down and down on the people of the Gulf, but maybe if we all pretend they're not, they won't be.

These rackets were made by media choppers and as I stood there under one, I was reminded of my time in Los Angeles, which is when I headed toward the Empire State Building. As I got closer, I couldn't help but see it as a target, a molten ball and I kept walking down Queens Blvd. toward it, and another helicopter rattled the air, and I wanted to huddle in that building's base, curl up, take mercy, if I could just reach it.

When I got back, toxic dispersants were still being rained down on the people of the Gulf, and a dog's high-alert ears stood framed in the window, over my doorway.