Steam Pipe Explosion in Manhattan

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Steam Pipe Explosion NYC

If you haven’t heard, a steam pipe exploded in Midtown Manhattan. My poet friend Steve Barret dropped me this poem before I even knew about it. Steve has a collection of vegetarian poetry coming out called the “i”: more than meats. The New York Times calls it “touchingly honest and deliciously clumsy.”

today was a lil 9/11
a lil baby 9/11
who vomits soot on your shirt
which sucks, but no one gets hurt
(or at least no one gets hurt that badly.
i believe some elderly people might have tripped and died during the panic,
sadly)

today was a “remember 9/11”
“was it only 6 years ago 9/11”
where people roam the streets
in a kind of hazy solidarity
chatting to strangers about
who they knew on the plane (“my sister’s friend tracy”)
where they were when it happened (“macy’s”)
how they were so close
they could see
the victims’
faces

(it’s really a fascinating bond, this
nostalgic memory, so morbidly fond)

today was not 9/11
so i never panicked.
“explosion” “transformer” “grand central”:
even as i heard bits of what people were saying,
i thought “this must be some kind of sick
michael bay
viral ad campaign.”

today was not 9/11
so even as the smoke towered 40 stories high
i thought “the yankees could pull within 7”
and “i want to check out that simpsons 7/11
at times square.”
not about corpses with dust in their hair.

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