Seventy Two floors up,

we three watched as the Tsunami

tidal wave rode past

the concrete structure we were hiding in

and we wept for the humanity lost.

 

It was that buffeting of the concrete

or maybe the scream from the young

woman’s mouth, siren like, distilled, vodka alerted,

that woke me up with my nerves trembling

and laying down on the cold

end of days September sofa,

Tsunami sweat lodged in my thin, greying eyebrows.

 

No less disturbing than the time I was forced to watch