Wash the Day Away
It is not my place, I feel, to reflect on 9/11. So instead we went to a Billy Collins reading last night because it is so obviously the poet’s job to do such things. Former US Poet Laureate Billy Collins was reading at a little wine shop on West 19th, where they were offering free wine and cheese. Not a bad deal at all. Apparently, it’s not a bad gig for Collins either, who joked that he was getting a free case of wine out of the deal. It was a lighthearted affair, as most of his poems are playful in tone and substance. He read his 9/11 poem and then he ended with the poem about the bread and the knife, which is my favorite of all of his poems.
After dinner, as we were walking down Broadway towards Union Square, we saw twin spot lights that spirtualized the fallen towers for the evening. It's not like I had an epiphany or anything. It’s just that overlooking 9/11 makes me feel even more uncomfortable about its existence. The tragedy, as tragic, stupefies me only insofar as a defined memory of the crime is crucial to recognize its legacy. Truth be told, those lights were a spectacular sight to see. I suppose a poet would search for symbolism in the fact that 9/11 was the first chilly night of autumn but I was just mad at my sleeveless self for not checking the weather report before I left my apartment.