Closing Remarks Morning Hoboken
Jun 23, 2004 | 204 views | 0 0 comments | 4 4 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Morning Hoboken begins below sea level on cobblestones still wet from last night'sdownpour

And rain water caught in a broken beer bottle on the curb

Fast Cooking Ali fires up his grill, sending the heart-stopping aroma of bacon

and eggs out into the atmosphere

The smell draws comfort memories of a time when those foods were good for me

Strings of shimmery foil potato chip bags and cakes wrapped in cellophane

Adorn the sides of his truck like Christmas lights plugged into the rising sun

A few steps up River Street, the post office lobby echoes with Sinatra music as CNN

takes closed captioned second billing

The fountain at the foot of Pier A Park shoots for the sky

And my nostrils welcome the scent of warm well-hydrated grass

I sit down on a bench so self-conscious sparrows can play a game of tag with

my feet

And give me that sideways stare that says they hope I haven't come empty-handed

On the promenade along the river joggers, joggers, joggers and joggers

And dogs that don't come when they're called

Because they know they're about to be left home alone for another day

Their owners soon to be carried out of town on buses, trains and square white ferries

that bounce across the river leaving glimmering silver trails in their wakes

Over on Washington Street, mother gets ready to open up the Riviera Bakery while

daughter waits in school uniform

Nearby, the weary are already streaming out of Starbucks, Chock Full o' Nuts, Panera,

Landmark, Dunkin' Donuts and Bagel Express

Clutching their hopes in cardboard cups and waxed paper bags

While the future gets ready to filter into the Hudson School and Skateboard Park sleeps late

The Candle Shop, Battaglia's, Carlo's, Cosmo's, The Frozen Monkey and Luscious Paper

come to life

From the oldest to the latest, the shops begin capturing eyes and hypnotizing noses

Though some of the older establishments are content to keep their past lives secret

I peek through Schnackenberg's window at the perfectly preserved diorama

of Hoboken's earlier days

As I hug this town and whisper in its ear

"How I wish I had met you when we were younger"

Siobhán Barry-Bratcher, West New York
To submit your work for consideration for the Back Page, e-mail poet Christine Goodman at info@arthouseproductions.org. Each poem should be no longer than 40 lines. Please include "Back Page poem" in the subject line.


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