Adventures in Long Island: The Helpless Detectives
The man who throws women off the Whitestone Bridge,
delighting in how they splatter like water balloons,
has memorized every word Milton ever wrote.
Later, he feeds blue jays oily black seeds
and drinks oily black coffee,
watching children twirl on their swings and
build castles in a sandbox
cats piss in.
We spend the day filling notebooks,
dusting for prints,
but no one really expects us to solve anything.
On the evening news we admit we’re of no help at all
and hope by saying so we offer some consolation.
We do wonder, though, what those parents think their
children smell like when they go off to school and who it was
brought death into the world and all our woe.
Credit
Copyright © 2018 John Surowiecki. Used with permission of the author. This poem originally appeared in The Southern Review, Summer 2018.
Author
John Surowiecki
John Surowiecki is the author of the poetry collections Martha Playing Wiffle Ball in Her Wedding Dress (Encircle Publications, 2017), finalist for the Connecticut Book Award; Flies (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2012); Barney and Gienka (CW Books, 2010); The Hat City After Men Stopped Wearing Hats (Word Works, 2007); and Watching Cartoons Before Attending a Funeral (White Pine Press, 2003).
Date Published
07/01/2018