Triborough Bridge: Kinesis Poem by William R. Rodriguez

an automobile vortex
where three bridges meet
twelve directions of traffic
twenty-two lanes that do not intersect
cars can go from here to there to another there
this is america and there are tolls
to pay and toll booths to collect the money
and police to collect those who do not pay the toll
but we kids are oblivious to the wonders of engineering
and we have no money to give to trolls
we run and and scream and fight monsters
in the cement towers of the bronx span
we want to ascend the spooky staircase
and explore the walkway to manhattan
but mommy herds us to the playground on randall's island
where she can sit in the shade and talk to the matron
while the cars whirl overhead
and harry sits on his hill
a small patch of grass bordered by an access ramp
beneath the grand junction
where the harlem span meets the viaduct
harry in his undershirt
drinking his quart of beer hidden in a brown paper bag
basking in the sun and alone in the quiet
he does not build bridges
he does not have a car
he works hard and dies in poverty
they give his ashes to the winds
and he intersects
with everywhere in the great universe
as cars speed by
and the commuters take no notice