On Brooklyn Bridge 12/22
Until you reach the mid-point do not turn
It is the hanging gardens of Babylon
It is the voice of God – your heart may rupture – will
The blur of wrought iron is cooling
Until you can take this coldness stay at home
Bring a parka and a bagged lunch
You can hear the cars - foreign tongues
The sound of smiles freezing on film
The gulls never know where to land
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