Edmund Siejka Poet Narrative

The Challenge

Boring summer
Idle time and
Empty streets
Endless days
Watching cars
And spinning dreams.
Sitting
Feet on the ground
Looking down
For something to see
Music drifting
Through open windows
Words from a song 
"It hurts to be in love"
Made me feel 
Lost
Somewhere between fourteen and twenty.
A shadow
Tall and straight
Broad shoulders
Athletic gait
No mistake
My uncle
Stanley. 
Iron man
Strong hands gripped my shoulders
He asked if I could ride my bike
Over the Bridge
From Queens
To Brooklyn
Four miles from where we stood
What for? I asked
No reason he said.
At two miles the Bridge blocked the sky
A major hurdle
Of old gray steel 
Built like a giant erector set
Narrow and short 
If I fell 
No one could help 
Just a wall 
Between me 
And an empty road to heaven.
In the heat I rode
He followed in his 
Proud chariot
White Olds 88
Sweat pouring down my back
Fatigued and cramped
White knuckles gripping handle bars
I kept pedaling
Wheels turning round and round
Blurry motion
In double time
Distracted by all
I didn't hear
Until his words slowly sunk in
"You can do it."
Bridge heavy 
With trucks and cars 
Dirt and grime
Dull browns and grays 
Shadows of color
Up the Bridge and over 
Coasting down to
Greenpoint
Narrow streets
Houses row on row
Crowded apartments 
Chicken coops in summer
Iceboxes in winter and
A bar on every corner.
I crossed the Bridge
For me the day was over
Catching my breathe
I turned to catch
A grin on uncle's face
Was he surprised that I finished?
No, not at all
The devil in his eyes
Said he expected it.
Days pass into months
Months into years
Memories are forgotten
Like so many pages 
Torn from an old calendar
Life goes round in a circle
Starting where it stopped
But through it all
I'll always remember that summer's day.







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