the boardwalk

poetry reading - audio & text

Killing summers on the verge of something /

(though unaware of what it was), /

we would listen to the ocean, roaring a hundred feet away, /

and wait for the tide to spit out /

its entrails of seaweed, jellyfish, & horseshoe crabs— /

sure to be picked clean by morning /

scavengers on a desolate strand of wizened earth, /

of bottle caps & broken glass— /

thinking mortal thoughts as its zephyr grew restless. //

What we needed was simple: tape, fishing line, a dollar bill. //

For us, the sky, a reflection of the sea, was a bowl /

rounding out our edges for the coming rain. O /

how every plank of the boardwalk glistened /

in the current of sandals & debris, letting /

the neon undertow of bars, arcades, & eateries /

have its way with us! In them, we knew the earth /

quivered (though not from delight), that it wanted to be /

lifted from time & space, the rustle /

& murmur of dreams in a clear-souled stupor. //

Like trumpeters at a funeral, we knew the spiritual kinship /

of underground figures; we rarely crossed the no-man’s-land //

of a glance with strangers, for fear that they could /

read our thoughts. But when the moon nestled in night’s velvet /

we would set the beach ablaze to count our wares— /

wallets, purses, jewelry—among its dance of shadows /

as intricate clouds adorned the skyline. /

Heroes of our own epic, we fought off the hounds of sleep /

with peppermint schnapps & purple haze, /

a minor rebellion just short of a pyrrhic victory, /

as the last of the driftwood turned to ash /

and the mood changed to something inscrutable, /

before we finally staggered home.