looking down at Niagara Falls.
An officer asks me if I’m okay
here at the edge. How nice
“just to see you sitting there all
by yourself.” Stunning, no later
than 5am I feel wonderful. Slept
a bit in my car about 30 miles
east of Buffalo, drove into the dark.
Got here and now there’s enough
light for memory lane. A family
of six one early morning in the 70s,
waking up in a Pinto station wagon
to the multicolored waterfalls. We
couldn’t get into Canada because
Dad refused to give up his Derringer.
Soon perhaps I’ll get a haircut
and a wedding gift in Buffalo. Now
I’m walking the edge, all of a sudden,
whoa, a drop of lightning. Muffled
thunder and the rabbit’s off like the
birds below. A cloud on the water.
Morning brightens. Day finds me
distant yet straightforward, stirring.
