Poetry & Photography by Puma Perl

                                The 7PM NYC Cheer - pot waiting at the window - something to look forward to each night.



Bang on a Pan

I missed the first two nights
of the New York City cheer
I was preoccupied, 
and although the windows
were open
my apartment was quiet 
and still
No cars on the highway
Not even a siren
or a police horn

Meanwhile,
nurses, track workers,
janitors, cashiers, 
home health aides,
methadone counselors
bus drivers, store clerks,
the frontline heart 
of our city,
changed shifts,
waited for buses,
descended subway stairs,
walked home

The third night,
I looked forward
to participating
At exactly 7pm
I leaned out the window
and clapped my hands
Nobody joined me 
I could see kitchen lights,
televisions flickering,
a few runners
on the track near the river,
a couple of bike riders,
intent on their exercise
I heard no clapping

I felt silly 
and sat down 
on my couch, 
turned on the tv,
poured a drink
I don’t remember 
what I watched 
Maybe it was the show
about 600 pound lives
or 90-day fiancées
My life felt less real
than the reality stars’

The fourth night,
I clapped for two minutes
by myself
My daughter sent me a video
from her apartment,
just a few blocks up
I could hear the roar
It lasted for four minutes
and there were fireworks

The fifth night,
I walked up to Grand Street
People cheered from windows,
blew horns, played instruments
One family stood on their terrace
and blasted “New York New York”
There was hardly anyone 
on the street 
I saw one man
in front of the church,
jumping up and down 
and waving his arms
Another guy on a bicycle
asked me what was going on
and a couple walking
in the middle of the street 
approached me
from a safe distance
and asked if they’d found a cure
I waved to the people 
smiling on their terraces
and walked home 

The sixth night, 
as I clapped by myself
I noticed, across the way,
one pair of hands clapping,
then two more
I shouted from my window 
and cheered
Dozens of windows below
remained silent

The seventh night, 
the family I’d seen
appeared to be waiting for me
I brought a pot and pan,
and my downstairs neighbor
leaned out his window
and clapped and whistled

The eighth night,
I banged my pots and pans
The same six hands clapped, 
my neighbor whistled,
and my friend Eddie,
an essential worker
from down the block,
stood underneath our windows,
banging a drumstick
against a tin pole

I began placing a speaker
by my living room window
Every night a different
song 
A few days later,
it was quiet again
Eddie, exhausted,
had fallen asleep early
The whistle guy
wasn’t around 
and the guy across the way
had stopped clapping
and was focusing a camera
in my direction

I’m not here 
for your entertainment, 
I thought, 
and decided to leave
my shades closed
the next night, 
maybe write a short story
about a person
who disappeared
from their window, 
leaving neighbors
to wonder if they were dead,
either from the virus
or from despair

The next night,
I sat at my computer
considering the trajectory,
when all of a sudden
I heard whistling
and blaring horns
I stuck my head out
My downstairs
neighbors 
smiled at me
and we clapped
together
People made noise
from every direction
Somebody blew a shofar
The family
across the street
cheered and clapped

Last night,
I moved my speaker
closer to the window
and played
“Volunteers of America”
I don’t know
if anyone hears
the music
but I turn it up
anyway

Tonight, I’ll play
“New York, New York,”
I’ll wave to Eddie
and my neighbors
and the whistlers
whether or not
they see me
and I’ll turn up
the music,
whether or not
anyone can hear, 
and we’ll all be together
and we’ll all be alone.

​

Puma Perl is an award-winning poet, writer, and journalist. She is the author of two chapbooks, Belinda and Her Friends and Ruby True, and three full-length collections, knuckle tattoos, Retrograde and Birthdays Before and After. She is the founder, host and curator of Puma’s Pandemonium, which launched at the Bowery Electric in 2012 and brings poetry together with rock and roll. She has performed across the United States and in Europe, both solo and with the great musicians who make up Puma Perl and Friends. Her photographs of artists, poets, and musicians are frequently used for album covers, fliers, and headshots, and have been published in literary journals and newspapers. She is a lifelong New York City resident and lives on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

​Photo by Robert Butcher

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