The World Trade Center
It's not the symbolism I miss
as much as the place itself.
The defined space.
The edifice housing the humming
efficiency of the nation's
largest business communities.
Escalators shooting up and down.
I, ensconced in a book
in a bookstore
mind drifting away
in my cabriolet dreams --
But feet rooted firmly.
Soles soldered securely
to the ground.
Apart from the mercantile ebullience
which animated the place.
And yet a strange, insignificant part of it all
As I purchased my book
And sat down to read it in the food court
Munching on a hot, salty, store-bought pretzel.
© September 2001 Rochelle Hope Mehr
