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Goodbye, America

An old railroad loco

by the side of a lake

 

A shocked motel clerk

greets us with the words:

Sadat is dead!

 

Chocolate chip pancake

late breakfast.

I almost throw up.

 

Disused Olympics

ski slope. Snow at the top

of Mount Washington.

 

Hard porn on the motel TV

in Palisades Park, New Jersey.

 

Bumper to bumper

at night

empty when we rise

next morning.

 

Take a wrong turn

find ourselves in Harlem

on our way to Central Park.

 

Folk gather round

fires on street corners.

 

Black guy in the car in front

at the lights swivels round

to point a finger gun. His idea

of a tourist joke, I guess.

 

Cops in Times Square.

Our hotel room on 42nd Street

among the little theatres

of Off-Off-Broadway.

 

Twin Towers on the skyline

looking back at Manhattan

from the Staten Island ferry.

 

 

🌷(8)

◄ Niagara

Comments

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Greg Freeman

Sat 22nd Mar 2025 11:13

Thanks again for your comments, Steve and Graham, and for the Likes, Red Brick, Flyntland, Nigel, Hugh, Stephen and Aisha. This poem was fleshed out after finding our album of Stateside visit snaps. Photos are always great prompts. The title? Partly because of age, and partly because of ... I won't be going back

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Graham Sherwood

Sat 22nd Mar 2025 10:48

I have never been to America and will never go now! But I do love a lot of American literature. John Updike, Robertson Davies, Saul Bellow and of John Steinbeck.

You poem in a travelogue form reminded me strongly of much of what I have read.

I think I like keeping the USA at a distance

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Stephen Gospage

Sat 22nd Mar 2025 08:53

Highly atmospheric, Greg, and the Sadat assasination locks it firmly in time. I remember my last view of the Twin Towers.
Looking back on my US visits, it may be that Trump's America has always been there, but he was the one who found it.

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