The Roof Garden Poem by Morgan Michaels

It was cool on the roof- breezy and empty.

They got off the elevator at the 17th floor and walked down a hall
to a door marked 'Roof Garden'. Beyond the door was a stairway with steps leading up to a landing. More steps led to another door that opened on the roof garden, its floor a maze of topiary under the sky. The roof was picketed round by a sort of parapet, tall enough to rest your elbows on. The building stood in mid-Village, surrounded by blocks of low, dark old neighborhoods. Across from it in three of four directions, rose the lit-up spires of the famous sky-scrapers. To the north, was the Empire State, awash in irid light. As was the Chrysler, to the east. Unimpressed, the Metropolitan Life Building sported traditional red, white and blue. Above loomed a sky colored two parts ash, one part rust, almost close enough to touch.There were no stars. To west, the river, a mirror of watery chroma, ran unhurriedly to sea. Snakily, it upheld the division between New York and Hoboken.

They picked a way through the dark to the south wall, first Donnie and John, followed by Larry and Mat. All found seats in the corner beneath a windowed brick hut that jutted against the sky darkly and held the water tank. They talked over the hum of the generator, waiting for dark when the fireworks would start.

Larry reminisced about Tom, whose ashes they scattered at Lake Fenion because he used to like going there with Laurie.

Donnie said Tom was a painful case, indeed.

'It was important to have positive re-enforcement, early on. Otherwise, forget it!

Larry recalled Tom's prodigal ways- how he spent his whole inheritance in one year on booze and tricks- and how he distanced everyone, even his friends.

Tired of it, finally, Donnie got up and drifted to the west wall. Along it stretched an empty hammock, pleading for an occupant. He clambered in and, stretched out on his back, studied the murky sky.

'Somebody', he begged, after a minute, 'come- give me a shove'.

Mat got up patiently and trekked to the hammock. He pushed it side to side till Donnie was content.

'It's like being on the Queen Mary', declared Donnie, dreamily, adding to himself, 'though I've personally never...'

Through pushing, Mat retraced his steps and sat back down. By....