Cul-de-Sac
February 16th, 2006Save as PDF
Among the photos that decorate the tops of different pages on this site is one of a statue ringed by park benches. I’ve already posted a poem about the statue ("Albert Berthel Thorvaldsen," in the "Central Park" series in the Old Poems section). Now here’s a poem about the funny little chunk of the Park where the statue resides. It’s right at Fifth Avenue and 96th Street.
Cul-de-Sac
Thinking it’s a pathway through the Park,
People enter the cul-de-sac; but quickly
They find themselves circling
A statue of somebody
Nobody’s heard of. Sometimes these strollers
Examine the statue, searching for clues
To its stolid bronze presence;
Others just shrug and move on.
It’s downright serene in the cul-de-sac.
People sit on the benches surrounding the statue.
They read, eat a sandwich.
They talk to their dogs.
In shaded corners wanderers rest,
Shopping carts full of the tumbled
Remains of their lives.
The cul-de-sac’s rimmed
With high Cyclone fencing preventing
The homeless, the dogs and the heedless
From leaping down into the traffic
That whizzes around us.
It’s easy to enter the cul-de-sac.
The fence lets you know that
You only get out the same way you came in.
February 26th, 2006 at 5:41 am e
This makes me want to head for Central Park at 96th and take a look. But it also may reverberate in my head when I enter cul-de-sacs elsewhere. A lot of unclearly marked cul-de-sacs lie in wait for the unwary in parts of the world less organized than Manhattan. We used to call them “dead-ends.” Whatever they’re called, they all have that foolish feeing, and the last line of the poem, in common.
August 13th, 2011 at 6:05 am e
Four score and seven minutes ago, I read a sweet arictle. Lol thanks
August 14th, 2011 at 5:57 am e
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August 15th, 2011 at 10:41 am e
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