Shane Allison
On Dreaming of Kyle Secor Naked When Terrorists Flew a Plane Into
The World Trade Center
I was dreaming of Kyle Secor
naked when terrorists
Flew an airplane full of
people into the World Trade Center.
I mistook the explosions for
lightning ‘cause it had rained the night before.
What the hell did I know
about explosions
Other than what I’ve seen in
a Steven Segall movie?
Looked out the window in my
underwear and R.E.M
Tee shirt to find people
running out of nearby buildings,
Down the streets of the
Financial District like a herd of circus elephants.
I thought nothing of it until
my roommate
Knocked on my double- room
door
Crying about six people dead,
fifty in critical condition.
Flipped on the TV
Where news anchors were
screaming,
"a plane has crashed into the
Twin Towers."
A cloud of debris fell over
us.
Could smell the blood of the
Wall Street work force.
I put on my jeans in fear of
evacuation.
The R.A. said we couldn’t
leave our rooms until further notice.
Stayed put until we were told
to converge on the second floor.
But I had not washed my face.
My teeth weren’t brushed.
Needed to put on some
deodorant.
Wanted my morning bowl of
Rice Krispies.
Walked into a cult of
frightened freshmen
Panicking in their pajama
tops,
Crouching in corners, crying
on their cell phones
To parents teddy bear hugs
away.
One of the buff security
guards from downstairs,
The one with the long
eyelashes and ass fluffier than yeast rolls,
Was covered in debris.
The contractor assured us we
were under a force field of safety.
I wanted to change out of
these clothes.
Stood with my head held high
while others sat scared
On the floor biting their
fingernails, eating Wheat Thins.
"The other building is still
on fire," said a girl wearing an
I Love New York tee shirt.
I was told that we might have
to run for cover to Marlton House
Where the beds are screwed to
the wall.
Hope the men and women of
FDNY are okay.
NYPD blue to the rescue.
Hope the hospitals have
enough blood.
I would give them gallons,
but I’m not sure if
I’m disease free.
I brought crackers just in
case I couldn’t
Get to a Burger King or a
Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Just in case I had to sleep
on cots and eat hard bread.
I didn’t want to leave my
apartment
Of hardwood floors, marble
kitchen counters.
My journals are up there.
My milk is gonna spoil.
The manager from Zetunda
brought turkey and veggie sandwiches,
Kiwi and strawberry slushies.
A list was passed around
asking those who wanted to stay, to sign their names,
And those who wanted to leave
could hike up to 14th Street.
It’s like winter outside,
said the security guard
With the buttermilk
biscuit-ass.
We stepped over shoes pulled
off in a panic
Making our way to the
Graduate Faculty Building.
Human Resources gave us
security blankets and pillows.
Some slept in the lounge,
conference rooms,
Others in ice-cold hallways,
the floors
Of classrooms watching John
Waters’ Hairspray.
We had full reign over the
cafeteria:
Eating barbecue chicken,
macaroni and cheese;
Ham sandwiches and cold sodas
for lunch
Until we could be placed in
alternative apartments.
I could have called my aunt
in Queens, but I didn’t
Want to put her out.
Slept on a dirty mattress in
a Union Square apartment.
Wanted to get out of those
three-day clothes,
Wanted to take a shower but
their bathroom was filthy.
There were pots in the sink
with caked-on food around the rim.
A dinner table of loose
papers.
I wasn’t used to this much
filth.
Finally called Aunt Karen and
asked if I could stay with her.
Gave my number to a big
legged girl in housing where
I could be reached.
Seamus from 4C wasn’t sure if
he was going to go home
To Maine where he could play
his guitar and eat vegan food
Or stay and sleep, starving
on a park bench.
Andy’s mom freaked in
Philadelphia.
Bridgett from the 8th
floor went back to New Jersey and became a prisoner in her own home. Her
mother wouldn’t let her leave the house.
I ate steak with yellow rice
while watching destruction
replay on CNN.
Slept like Snow White in my
cousin’s twin bed beneath glow- in- the- dark- stars
And an autographed N-Sync
poster.
Shaved my head in their blue
bathroom.
Returned to William Street
eight days later where I was greeted by
Cops and National Guards.
Entered 4B wearing clean
underwear to find dust on new poems,
And the burgundy bedspread
I’d purchased at Target.
The cleaning crew threw out
my milk.
We were told not to use our
air-conditioners until further notice.
And here I am after sleeping
on the floor,
After being in the same
clothes for three days,
After spending the night,
showerless on a dirty mattress,
After getting the news that
thousands were missing,
And hundreds were found dead,
After the candle lit vigils
at fire stations, police stations,
After hearing of Muslims
being threatened in their driveways,
After the news of the last
dying words on black box recorders,
After the Pentagon was left
in ruin,
After seeing pictures of
employees in the pages of Newsweek jump out of windows,
After Bryant Gumble, Dan
Rather,
After Bush referring to Bin
Laden as "Hate Monger," "Evil Doer,"
After hearing about New York
Firemen, New York Police
Saving mothers, fathers,
brothers, sisters, husbands and wives,
After discovering that most
of them lost their lives in the process of such bravery,
After the Red Cross called
for blood,
After a generation of young
people came to volunteer
Bringing bottled water, work
gloves, flashlights and food,
After construction workers
and search party dogs
Endured scrapes, scratches
and gashes,
After the telethons, the
victim relief funds,
After the gathering of
Hollywood stars and musicians,
After the postings of missing
loved ones have been taped on telephone
Poles, brick walls, the
windows of fast food joints,
I still want a bowl of Rice
Krispies.
Shane Allison's Pushcart nominated poems have been published
in New Delta
Review, Coal City Review, James River Review, Oyster Boy Review, Fifth
Street Review, Chiron Review and online magazines such as
Unlikely Stories,
Velvet Mafia, Suspect Thoughts and can we have our ball back?
His chapbook,
Ceiling of Mirrors is out from Cynic Press. He has work
forthcoming in
Gargoyle and Gents, Badboys and Barbarians: This New Breed. |