Who would want to take
the lower level of the
GW on a crystal clear
day? If I put a fake
ice cube with a cock-
roach in their drink
Would they say any-
thing about it to me?
Would they feel a need
to discuss their right
to choose when faced
with duality? Would their
license plate have sig-
nificance? Would the letters
& numbers undulate like
a snake down the arm of
the Statue of
at Equinox? Do they like
Jackie Gleason more than
Pee Wee Herman? Have they
written books in Arabic
denouncing Mickey Mouse?
Do they own a string of
zipper factories? Do they
wash each blade of grass
in their yard with a damp
cloth? Do they have dreams
of their parents killing each
other? Are they afraid to
have children? Have they
ever fallen thru ice?
Been stuck in an electric
car between terminals at
the airport in
Were they children who
had run hotels in
Were they child assassins
in Pol Pot’s army? Are they
a child with memories of
helicopters exploding stuffed
inside the body-bag of an
adult driving
over the
River, clear day, on the
Just someone looking for
a place to rent. Just some-
one on the way to a nursery
to water geraniums &
Easter lilies. Just
someone who uses a Spell
Check. An Image scientist.
just someone doing a little
Inside trade. Had they seen
carry a pair of
roller skates in the trunk?
Are there used condoms
in their ashtray? Does
their left rear tire
need a little air? Have
they been to the
Canal? Do they horde toilet
paper in their basement?
Do they sleep with their
students? Had they been
ordered to kill their teacher?
Were there baby shoes
hanging from the rear-view
mirror? How old is their
hairdo? How long are they
planning to wear those
socks? Do they keep the
Christmas lights on their
house up all year? Do they
pray to St. Anthony when
they’ve lost something &
then find it! Are their
headlights on? Do they think
golf would be more inter-
esting if the fairways were
different colors? Do they
believe in Pro Wrestling?
Would they rather see
Llamas than dogs in the subway?
Is it someone related to
George Washington himself!
Could it be! Is it someone
who thinks the Tooth
Fairy real? A policy
strategist? A media wizard?
Maybe you grow ginseng root.
You were the Emperor’s Physician.
A Department of Corrections
officer. A security guard. Just
someone who lives the
house they were born in. The
Mayor—putting homeless
people in a cheap hotel.
Was that a Laundry Worker
on strike driving down onto
the Lower Level? A painter
who saw only Anti-Space? Someone
good with structure? Someone
who didn’t need any.
Were they eating Melba
Toast? Do they know UPS
leases ships to the Navy?
When they shit, do they “Shit
from the heart?” Do they think
water-polo is played with rackets?
Had they learned to react
calmly to the death of strangers?
Do their windshield wipers
work? Do they consider the Cross-
Ceiling of Hell?” Are all
their brothers cops? Did
they know Mingus? Do they
live in an apartment full
of writers? When the President
left
off a parting salute? Just somebody
behind the wheel, thinking it’s
better to live our lives than
put a price upon them. Just
composing Verse—as in Universe.
As in the Future going on
foot thru a Crowd. Had their
fathers died of nightmares?
Do their sisters have exaggerated
& self-conscious attachments
to the Great Blank Spaces of
American Culture that seem to
reduce them to a tiny yet inextinguish-
able song? Is their greatest vanity
Hairdressing the Hero? Do they see
the bridge as a Rainbow? Do they
think of rainbows as the Ever-Present
Unity Connecting Two Camps? Are
they 72-Hour-Awake-Truckdrivers on
Speed listening to Emmylou Harris
CDs? Does the Brdige remind them of
George Washington, cutting down the
cherry tree? Mother, I cannot tell
a lie. I cut down the Sacred Hoop
today. I cut down the great Tree
of Peace today Mother. Are they
en route to a Ta’i Chi Ballroom
for an evening of Slam Waltzing?
Is this Noise that I hear pieces of
Silence breaking off from the
enormous & dumb & incorrigible
mass inside them? Do they shriek
& squeal—those Tires—or is
that Sound the pressing of human
Energy & Existence upon us, without
there ever being a taking account
of the Destruction? Do the poets
of the Poolhalls dream blue
pizzas thinking
of Rilke in
bleeding like the Sun to say “It
lies in the nature of every finally
perfect love that sooner or later
it may no longer reach the loved one
save in the Infinite.” Do they
take this Lower Level for to glimpse
Swans below? Are their Hearts as
tender as the inside of red roses?
Jim Cohn
January 1989