POV Bagenland: Seven Consecutive Mondays. Everything reminds me of absinthe, the verdant sex goddess of alcohol.
I grew up along the Deleware River in Trenton, NJ. The “Trenton Makes Bridge” was my bridge. It said that “Trenton Makes and the World Takes”.
Yes, I know. We all laughed too. The Roebling Wire and Cable factory takes up about the fifth of the city and while ostensibly abandoned, it still remains the Hilton of Crack Houses when last I looked.
Then came Rutgers University, the fool’s promise of escape from the Trenton way of life. Yes, sir, I was going to be gainfully employed, well-appreciated, and quite possibly loved. Yep, I went northward past Princeton primped and pedantic as a young man will.
In my first year of college Hurricane Floyd hit. My dorm was built right along the Raritan River, giving me a front row seat to what seemed at the time like the apocalypse. We had no potable water for a week. Things flooded. Etc, etc.
Somewhere in between then and now New Orleans, my only favored city in the US, was inundated by an unforgiving storm and an unforgivable Republican. I’ve tried to take solace in knowing it’s been rebuilt, but it still burns.
The water follows me everywhere. That’s the point I’m getting at. I fear neither fire nor earth, and I laugh during turbulence…but me and the fucking water just don’t get along. Everwhere I go, the water holds the issue, and the issue is always a wavelength of curses.
Now, here I am, 28 in the first summer of the Obamarama. Another green river flows below me; this one’s the Monongahela. They have to dye the Chicago River green on St. Paddy’s day to get it this color. For us, something does it. Presumably it’s algae, but it could be antifreeze for all I know for certain.
Still, it twinkles as the sun has its fun. The water ripples in thewind like celophane. It always seems so solid when you look down from above.
Then a motorboat rips past and the wake leaves a rough strip of coarse green and white, like the spine of a dragon.
Then, back as it was. As you were, Mike. Seven Consecutive Mondays, and as you were, to the purpose, to the river, and back out into the rain.