THE PRIDE OF MY TERRACE IS
THE SHROUD OF YOUR LAND
And here comes those Vandals again, the same
ones who sacked Rome? I don't know about
that, but we're piglets now and this bridge that
says 'Brooklyn' is taking me somewhere. I hope.
There are legends of trash on each shoulder - the
road's, not mine. And, to put it right, the road's not
mine either. And. I. Wouldn't. Want. It. 'Go on!'
Or do I mean Gowanus, Canal? Anyway, is Canal
really your name? Jeepers, I'm lost. The crossing
guard stays 'Stop here!'. But because this is Brooklyn
I hear it as the crossin' gahd says 'Stop Heah!'. Almost
like Boston - is there a connection? Whatever floats
your boat, or boasts your float, or gets your goat.
It's all OK with me. Make a right at the wahta.