Pompeii

Racheline Maltese
For a year I rode the E
downtown
to World Trade,

Worked at Lehman
and wore suits with big shoulders
in soft colors
to prove my worth to men
who wouldn't f*ck a girl with short hair.

My desk was on the eighth floor,
low enough to avoid the sway of engineering.

I shopped at lunch,
brown-bagged on marble steps, and
listened to music I didn't even like
amongst fake palms:
status for a desert in which we did not live.

All these years on and
people still go quiet in closed stations,
in our Pompeii.

The human mind is constructed, my mother says, to forget pain.

So when the tourists ask:
"Does this train go to Ground Zero?"
No, I say,
It goes to World Trade.

Published by Racheline Maltese

Racheline is an actor, writer and director with a journalism BA from GWU; she studied at the Atlantic Theater Company and NIDA. She lives in NYC with her partner and is the author of The Book of Harry Potte...   View profile

3 Comments

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  • samaira 4/14/2009

    Great work.

  • Smorg 4/10/2009

    And I bet the folks that used to be there but no longer are appreciate it that you think of the place for what it was rather than just for the way it ended! :o) I'll drink to that!

  • AC Craig 4/10/2009

    love it. thanks

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