Bastille Day
by Eric Lind

The multitudes storm the bridges of the Seine

vying for space amongst themselves

to watch the fireworks.

Staring towards the Eiffel Tower, they wait.

But fate’s a great ironist: there are no

fireworks this evening, the city landscape of

apartment buildings blocking the view.

Only a faint radiance flashes

from behind the urban horizon,

followed by a muffled

             boom boom.

 

Word spreads

that the non-event is

underway,

that the image has declared

its abstraction

from the viewing public.

Anxiety begets terror

begets the question

             why is there nothing rather than something?

 

Some persist across the bridge with false hope

of a view. Lawless, arms burdened with

blankets and champagne, they wait.

 

A few continue to gaze

with no real

expectation

that the fireworks will suddenly appear.

They carry on

devour absence.  

             Boom.

 

ERIC LIND is a freelance errand boy and semi-nomad. His words have appeared in The Big Issue, Global View, Four and Twenty Journal, Religion and Conflict, various United Nations forums and Caterwaul Quarterly, where he is a contributing editor. He has previously worked as an automotive technician, leftist politicker, bureaucrat, ghostwriter, landscaper, speech writer for the United Nations, and salesman of warm alpaca goods. He is currently unemployed, in Ecuador.

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