It is an eerie night on the Northshore.
The Boston Celtic’s big lead quickly dwindles in the final quarter.
Winds are picking up,
As darkness looms over like a black streetlight,

Throwing January O’Neill off her Kandy Shoes.
Breathing of anvils and anchors, Poet Michael Weaver
Reads “Tunafish”
To dry a soaked, dedicated crowd,
While lost in memories of erotic secrets he and Lucille Clifton exchanged.

I have never felt an evil like this,
Did the marrow in my bones freeze?

The Celtics just lost by 20 points
And the rain plummets like I never have seen.

“These winds have never made my windows rattle so hard,”
My neighbor says.
Living in this apartment building for 16 years,
I can tell even he is timid,
As ambulances wail through the night.

Fire trucks whizz by too,
Spurting a layer of additional rain onto the windows and I am so goddamn cold.
Creaks I have never heard.
Tenants slamming doors.
Where would they be going in this weather?

It is a haunting night on the Northshore.
U.S. Olympics Nordic Trekkers won gold and silver today.
This ditch of disaster isn’t affecting the rest of the world,
Or even the U.S. for that matter.

“If my T.V. loses power tonight I’m going to kill somebody,”
My neighbor spits through his teeth.

In my living room, I light my only candle.
For some reason it burns so dimly, spirit so small.

The front doorknob jiggles and
I want to break out in tears of apprehension.

Through the silence of flickering flame,
I hear in the distance my other neighbor Fred
Riding his obnoxiously noisy scooter home.
I can imagine his face in disgust,
As the rain pelts his coat,
Drenches his jeans,
Leaks inside his helmet and up his nostrils.

His brrroooooomm… is hastened tonight, though.
Run for your life, Fred.

How long will the power be out for?
The ambulances continue to howl,

As the angry Indian at the 7-11 gobbles down chocolate bars, in the dark,
Smoking Marlboro Reds, if he smokes,
Locked inside his glass doors, if they are his.

Rumors say we are flooding.
“Northshore the New Atlantis!”
I can see the Headlines tomorrow around the World.

I hear in the distance my other neighbor Fred
Riding his obnoxiously noisy scooter home,
His brrroooooomm… hastened the night.
Wait, I already heard that.

Did I mention I feel so goddamn cold?
Run for your life.

The Night I lost My Sanity
By Jeffrey Merola


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