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.
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