I came here, where freedom is being defended,
to serve it, and to live
or die for it”
Casimir Pulaski (1745-1799)

I’m on the edge
through the eyes
the breeze on a spring morning
while I am with you
in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge
a tremor shook again … my soul
in April I listen my own voice
in April I can hear the heavy traffic

Then a walk through Soho and China Town,
is a fascinating surprise
I have a backpack and a coat the color of ashes
the river is a dive that can be jumped to the imagination
I guess I go up to the top and I borrow the American flag

The “others” are a wooden masks
—– not even the theater belongs to them ,
around me only a few are austere
the lights and people in the windows of the buildings
can be seen that they are doing
as if I could be there in their private lives
since I’m officially in exile

And it was not a river , it was the arm of the sea
and everyone jumped taking their life out of the landscape
there are people like me without knowing them
I am the only one who remembers them
I promise that if I have the courage to accompany them
on a foggy night , I can jump to the river to fall alive



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