MY_WTC #327 | Jack 1994

Truck driver from Denver, Colorado

Towers of Steel

By J.S. Byrom

An autumn Manhattan November day,
when I drove my truck past JFK,
leaves were on the ground,
when I parked the rig to look around (1).
New York! Heard so much,
just had to look,
really see those towers of steel, feel America`s beat.

Tubes of concrete, graffiti and greed,
Birdland on 53, jazz at Lincoln,
birdbrains in Rockefeller (TV talks),
My god, this is America.
Good and bad, greed, lust, noble, true, the ACLU, UN, and little dogs.
Wall Street suits, Amy Goodman news, one big pulse of the new.
Holy cow, I`m just a blue-collar country boy:
wow, New York.
Statue of Liberty,
there she is, tears in my eyes: “God Bless America.”
Maybe Neil Diamond wasn`t a sop “Coming to America.”
Every step was mine to the top,
New York Harbor: joy, joy joy below me.
Hopes and dreams of thousands- “Ellis Island!”
It all comes together in one big, hip soup.
Back to Battery, Sunday in the Park.
We walked up the canyons,
looked up for light.
Lonely trees fought for photons,
a church in the midst
made me stop and pray.
I had a pizza right across the street,
from the twin monuments of America.
Elevator to the top, my god this is high,
I can`t believe that a building`s so up.
Windows on the World, I look down to see,
Such energy and work,
miles of steel, miles of steel.
A little old lady in the harbor below pokes
a torch, of liberty, or something.
I felt so fine, way up here, above the river.
Tonight, who knew the towers would burn,
and fall, and take the hopes of those,
janitors, secretaries, CEO`s, firefighters,
all below?
No way, I felt as high as a kite that broke the string.
I stood on top of the tower,
all was fine.


Then Satan chartered a plane,
didn`t even need a pilot, flew it right into my heart.
Then another just to show Evil is smart.
Smashed my city into a cloud of fear.
Now there`s just a hole,
hole in my heart,
hole in New York, hole in the world.
The steel melted by hate, not by Allah`s will.
Cold Satan melted the steel,
right on prime-time.
End of the rhyme

Majority written between 8:45-9:10 a.m, 9/11/02

(1). After U2 (1987). “Angel of Harlem,” Rattle & Hum