by Baron Wormser
On Chandler Street in Baltimore a brick house
With a sectioned cement sidewalk, a maple tree,
A privet hedge, a rusting swing set.
I hold my breath but time rushes toward me.
On Chandler Street in Baltimore an old man
Gestures from a porch, his face bleak
With anger. “Goddamn you twice!” he hollers.
We stop our game of step ball, laugh till we shriek.
On Chandler Street in Baltimore the TV
Chirps like an electric cricket through the night.
“Suez Canal,” I hear and wonder how
The earth can spin yet remain upright.
On Chandler Street in Baltimore it rains
To end the world, then ceases. I go outside
And begin to splash in puddles — stomp, splat,
Stomp, splat. My life will not be denied.