Everybody Is Always from Long Island

which is why the wind blows debris there,
trying to find its way home.
Which is why we all can imitate the accent,
even for just a moment,
and we know moments can change everything.
Which is why the hockey sticks stay strong
and the science progresses
and the water ballet gets practiced.
Which is why the trains speed
east and west, but only
chug along north and south.
Which is why the clams
stay in their little beds waiting
and the ducks remain unroasted.
Which is why we are one of
the guardians at the place where
night turns to morning every day.
Which is why the Catholic churches,
Which is why the synagogues,
have been busy lately
burying the dead down to the water table.
Which is why we love the beach
of purple sand and shells,
even when it litters itself with garbage.
Which is why the yachts are moored
next to oyster boats as if in dry dock,
yet there is water all around.
Which is why the trimmed hedges—
animals, abstract, geometric—
shoot stray branches into the sky.
Which is why we shop
and we bring to you our malls
because we knew you loved that about us.
Which is why all the trees seem
shapeless, grouped in suspicious masses
that make no earthly sense.
Which is why we wear
blue uniforms, and white ones,
and black rubber ones, and we are always
on duty here between the city
and the sea, the city
and the rest of the world,
the city and everything out there,
beyond ocean waves, below bridges,
above skyscrapers and seagulls,
everything we don’t see right away
or ever understand.