Poetry Collections

GREAT GHOSTS

AT THE GREAT FALLS

I could imagine rolling over those rumbling falls in a barrel

The rushing water splashing on the rocks below.

We’d only seen it in pictures or news reels

But this day trip in 1990 we planned to spend at the Falls.

Imagine just fifteen minutes for home all my life

In the middle of a big city, Paterson, and I’ve never seen them.

But this was no ordinary summer.

I was editor at a local newspaper

And couldn’t take a whole week.

So, a day trip here and a day trip there,

And here we are, staring at the Great Falls,

My wife, my nine-year old daughter, and me.

Let’s walk on that rickety walkway over the falls, I say.

It’ll be a great adventure over the Great Falls.

No was the unanimous answer.

“You don’t expect me to walk that alone?

This is a family vacation,” I reminded.

“Daddy, I liked it better when we went to Sterling Forest

And the gypsy read my palm at the Renaissance Fair.

She said I’d have a long life as long as I don’t

Walk on rickety walkways over rocky gorges

Below small and great falls.”

“We can appreciate it from here,” says my wife.

I look at the chasm where the water falls

And yet it does not fill. Deadlines loom.

We cross the street to the museum of mills,

A concrete submarine, old trains, and legendary looms.

-- Anthony Buccino