My Nightmares

I’m standing atop a building
Three quarters of the way above my city
And only a few buildings rise above my height

Then the jets come
They dive into Central Park
And pull up
Their wings clipping off the top of trump tower
Like a hedge trimmer

The fuselage continues skyward
Leveling off before falling and landing
Somewhere near the South Street Seaport

Another fireballs into Rockefeller
The ice rink melted in seconds

Above and below me is all manner of destruction
Fire and smoke
The roof I’m on
Rumbles and sways

More buildings topple
An airliner hammers into the Empire State
Its wing spinning off
Thirty-five blocks north-east
Cutting the Citicorp building’s
Cross-shaped base
Out from under it

It comes down
Instantly
In slow motion

Burning jet fuel spurts through the air
Like lava streams

I wake up
Knowing
My mother and father were wrong
There is no god
And dragons are real