I went looking for Roebling's house
on a windy afternoon
And though my daughter couldn't speak
she told me what she knew
She cried until we reached Number 110,
a house of air
I was looking for
a place
that wasn't there
And while the great bridge
was spun across the sky
A man with ruined legs
watched the work through a spyglass
Each morning, he sent orders to the men
by his love's hand
Do their ghosts still live where
cars drive into the night?
We went walking on that same bridge
She slept the whole way across
While I told her of its history and
the lives that were lost
A few blocks from City Hall
I bought us pizza, the first we'd shared
"More!" she said
and stood up on the chair
And while the great bridge
was spun across the sky
A man with ruined legs
watched the work through a spyglass
Each morning, he sent orders to the men
by his love's hand
Do their ghosts still live where
cars drive into the night?
A rooster was on Emily's lap
when she took the first ride across
And a president
shook Wash Ro's hand
on the day the bridge opened up
But while my girl and I
stood on the Brooklyn side
I had very different thoughts
I looked toward the Fulton Ferry dock
and saw the old man's foot get crushed
I watched the water lap at the tower stones
and saw the men set to work as the caisson shut
I felt my own legs stiffen
as if the bends had stricken them
Do ghosts still live?
Where?
