Milton P. Ehrlich, Ph.D is an 85 year-old psychologist. A Korean War veteran, he has published numerous poems in periodicals such as Bombay Review, Descant, Wisconsin Review, Rutherford Red Wheelbarrow, Toronto Quarterly Review, Off The Coast, Christian Science Monitor, Huffington Post, and the New York Times.
Hungry for Love in the Sludge of Staten Island
By Milton Ehrlich
They left behind the pushcarts
and the joie de vivre of Coney Island
when her family migrated
to almost nowhere—Staten Island.
She grew up holding her nose
in the land of gas stations,
malls and Golden Arches.
There was no air in the air,
even air in car tires seem
to go flat.
Riding the ferry was no fun.
Seagulls flew away frightened
by the invaders from Canarsie,
Flatbush and Sheepshead Bay.
Hart Crain’s Brooklyn Bridge
would never be the same,
Upstaged by a bumper-to-bumper
Verrazano, Hart Crain’s Bridge
would never be the same.
Everybody sat around
blathering about the price
of tuna on a square-foot lawn,
haring beer-belly laughs over
unfunny racist jokes that made
the Virgin Mary frown in her shrine.
When it was time to celebrate
her thirteenth birthday,
she found herself surrounded,
by mindless classmates
with licorice between their teeth.
Not one
showed up at her party.
Alone, she sang:
“Happy Birthday to me,”
and downed a tear-soaked
Entenmann cake by herself.
Even (Especially) for those of us who haven’t been seagulls on Coney or Staten Islands, this piece by Mr. Erhlich swoops us there. Thanks! HGL
Loved this piece about life. Real life.
“There was no air in the air,” but there is depth and oxygen in this heart rending poem.
Good work Milton!
For me, the poem chronicles the loss of sweet joie-de-vivre from pushcarts to the bumper-to-bumper traffic to the Entenmann’s iced with tears, and hits home with “…no air in the air…”
Thanks for a poignant memory!
Mike
Great work, Milton. My husband, who is about your age, grew up in Brooklyn. I will share this poem with him. And yes, I have heard many stories about Entenmann’s cakes, the best!