FALL 2007

Paula Camacho

On the Belt Parkway I realize everyone in the world
travels through Brooklyn at the same time
From the Southern State Parkway to the Verrazano Bridge
from the Verrazano Bridge to the Southern State Parkway
Cars swell the parkway like a pregnant belly
stop and go contractions of traffic, labor pains
for those who must travel back and forth to work each day
On the Belt Parkway every exit is a port in a storm
the Coney Island Parachute ride a beacon of hope
for western travelers exit six and counting
On the Belt Parkway the light at the end of a tunnel
is a jet missing the roof of your car near JFK
On the Belt Parkway signs that say
“How sweet it is” when you enter Brooklyn
and “Forgetabutit” when you exit should be reversed
Every exit number and sign memorized how far apart they are
as you crawl from lane to lane minute to minute
breathe in and out, in and out
On the Belt Parkway I can hear
adult men moaning and groaning
When they exit boundless joy
it is the closest they will ever get to giving birth

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