Time doesn’t explode
in the same way
a jet does when it
penetrates an office
building window
during the early morning
coffee break. First,
they were talking about last
night’s Letterman, but then
the conversation was lost
and choked in the screams
made from the smoke
and the death and the desperate,
haunted calls of
first responders.
The words dissipate like vapor
because there are no words.
Make no mistake:
when your name has
a little color in it
people who are still grieving
will see you not as you are
in God’s eyes (regardless
of His nickname) but as
you are in their heads.
And that's a shame.
Nevertheless, I fully understand
that a banker falling
through The Big Apple
sky, knee bent in a kind
of half-prayer, is
most certainly a sign
of the purest evil, but
it does not excuse
the metal marks
that must surely
still burn
on your skilled, dexterous,
and once cuffed wrists.
