poem of the day 05.17.16

the only adult on this block

if i’m your go-to guy

for civic responsibility

then surely polite society around here

has broken down and devolved more than i thought

but the water has been gushing

down seventy-fifth street for an hour

a formidable river cutting this part of brooklyn in half

most likely from a busted fire hydrant

and of course all of the people outside

are standing disguised as small packs of philosophers

asking to each other, but what can we do?

the ones with cell phones

they’re stopping to take photos of the rushing watercourse

with that familiar skyward, tapping pose

i can tell they’re posting pics on social networking sites

instead of calling the proper authorities

so it comes down to me to play the only adult on the block

navigating the phone tree for 311

i watch thousands of gallons of water rush down the street

carrying sticks and leaves and paper

ubiquitous plastic bags and fast food wrappers

go sailing on by

to where, i have no idea

and the operator on 311, she wants to know more about me

than what’s actually going on

my name, my phone number

how long i’ve lived at the residency

lady, i say, what in the hell does this have to do with anything?

she says she needs the information for a report

report? look, i tell her, you’re losing water  by the millions

while outside the denizens of the street are still strolling around confused

walking their asshole dogs while kids cry and try to jump into the deluge

311 operator tells me the EPA has one-day to respond to my claim

in one day we’ll all by living underwater, i say

this borough will be a virtual atlantis

but that doesn’t scare her at all

she probably lives in staten island

she thanks me for calling and tells me to have a nice day

as i stand there with the dead flip phone in my hand

watching all of this waste continue to pour down the street

thinking next time this happens

i’m not calling anyone

i’m going out for a fast food cheeseburger instead.